The First
by Kimberlea
Summary: What would happen if you found out you were not who you thought you were? Elle discovers that she is something more than human, though she remembers only recent things from her previous life. Amid a plot to destroy Heaven from the inside out, she must figure out why she was sent to Hell and who on Earth brought her back. Possible Dean/OC eventually.
1. Holy Fire

Tuesday. Tuesdays are the worst, are they not? Nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday, in fact; nothing ever happens on a Tuesday full stop. It is as if the powers that be halt all major events and put them off until Wednesday.

As usual, Elena was stuck with the evening shift at the burger joint two blocks over from her apartment in Phoenix, Arizona. It was the seven-until-close shift that no one wanted, especially seeing as no one ever came in after Midnight on a weekday and there was still two hours until they could shut up shop. At least it meant she could try and think up some decent answers for her college interview next Monday. Everything depended on that interview, her entire future as a Lawyer depended on that interview.

Elena was what you might expect from an average twenty-three year old; quiet and naïve, sporting long mousey blonde hair, a curvy yet slight frame and a face filled with features not quite ready for adulthood. She had wide blue eyes that gave the impression of a storm brewing inside the walls of her mind and more freckles than a girl would like, her nose was small and straight and her mouth most inclined to be pulled into a full-lipped smirk that hinted that she should know things that no one else did. Of course, none of this was important really, the most interesting thing about Elena was that she had only recently moved to Phoenix from the English town of Kent, giving her an accent that immediately entitled every American she encountered to ask her to say things that she pronounced differently so as they could laugh and tell her how many things she says the incorrect way, whilst internally she convinced herself that it was the Americans getting it wrong; after all it was called the English language. Her summer uniform gave away more than she would have liked, her rouge apron was almost longer than her black pleated skirt and the neckline of her white t-shirt was lower than necessary. Elena would take jeans and a shirt any day over such a trashy get-up.

It was at around quarter past twelve that Elena noticed something not quite right. Outside the diner, across the deserted street, an odd-looking man was staring intently through the window – staring directly at her, he did not even turn away once caught, openly gawking. She had been wiping down tables vacated recently when she happened to glance out onto the street. It would not have been quite so creepy if she had been working with another member of staff, but James had left an hour ago and she had been left to the night. What really disturbed Elena was the stony concentration of the gentleman; his expression definitely did not scream 'friend', more like 'freaky-stranger-who-will-murder-you-in-your-sleep' – if that was even a facial expression one could make. He wore a white shirt and blue tie beneath a dark suit and enclosing all that was a too-large trench coat that had perhaps seen better days. His dark hair framed eyes so dazzlingly blue that Elena could tell the colour even from this distance.

Elena was almost relieved when a pair of men walked in, despite the unusual nature of such an occurrence. She decided she did not mind too much that they were her only customers; the taller one reminded her of an overlarge puppy, and the shorter of some sort of Adonis. Said Adonis was not short, probably a foot taller than Elena, but well-built – he could obviously take care of himself – he had a ruffle of dirty blond hair and the biggest green eyes Elena had ever seen and long lashes that made her somewhat jealous; unfortunately he had yet to so much as glance at her on his arrival. The big one had dark hair that was in good need of a trim, though by the looks of things he was determined not to get one, he was lean yet muscular with a charming smile which he flashed my way as they took a booth close to the window, both of them ignoring the sign next to them that stated that booths were to be reserved for three or more people. What did it really matter? They were the only two customers in the whole diner anyway.

She gave them a few minutes to read the menus in front of them, before heading over to take their order. "What can I get you guys?" She beamed as she was told to by her boss, despite knowing that no one else was present and that the cameras they installed for security had never actually been anything more than just props.

"I'll take the bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon, with a side of fries and a coffee. Thanks, sweetheart." The green-eyed one replied with a playful wink. Elena was glad she hadn't turned off the grill or the fryer just yet. She turned to the other.

He smiled sweetly, "A coffee and a Caesar salad, please." The second answered, ignoring the issue of a groan from his friend that sounded distinctly like 'ugh, salad'.

"I'll be right back," She told them, hurrying through to the kitchen.

Elena did not know quite what to make of these two; on the surface they seemed as normal as anyone else, however, the snippets of snatched conversations she managed to catch as she served them their food most definitely was not. They spoke solely of angels in their hushed tones – as though they were real. Something about a 'serious angel battle' and someone they really needed to 'gank'. She was not even sure what exactly 'gank' referred to, she assumed it would be American slang for something or other. Elena had long since given up on the notion of such things as angels, of religion altogether; to her, now, faith was just a way to cover up the fear of not being in control of our own life, something to turn to or blame when something went wrong. Elena had decided long ago that no higher power could or would possibly let the world get into such a poor mess; therefore there could not be any higher power at all. And besides, how many people have claimed to see angels and not turned out to be insane?

To add to their Biblical obsession, they frequently observed her – when they thought she was not looking, of course – as though she herself might sprout wings. Their combined gaze seemed expectant, did they expect a song or dance with their food? Elena sure hoped not – not only was she a horrible singer, but she had two left feet to boot.

Cautiously, Elena shifted her attention back to the watcher across the street. He had mysteriously gone missing. There was not a single trench coat in sight. That was a great relief, she had been worried that she might have needed to call the cops, or her boss, or someone. Thankfully, he had disappeared and she did not need to do so. Calm washed over her. Had she really been that tense? She had not realised how much the watching stranger had bothered her.

She wondered, absently playing with the tie of her apron, just what the guy could have wanted to achieve from staring at her, other than frightening her. Elena was hardly the most interesting person in town, despite her English affliction. What could possibly be so intriguing to him about her? To anyone, for that matter.

Alas, Elena did not have long to dwell on that particular question, for the two men signalled that she should come over again. Only this time there were no longer just two, but three.

The man from outside was no longer outside. He sat at the booth with the same exact countenance he had worn before, only this time his azure glare bore into Elena completely with startling ferocity. She knew him, she realised distantly, and yet she had simultaneously never seen him in her entire life – it was an unsettling sensation. Even if she could not place him, he certainly knew her; his face seemed to soften and droop as though he were devastated that she had not already denoted his identity – his features twisting awkwardly, awash with something akin to pity.

It took her a moment to notice that she really ought to say something, anything.

"Can I get you guys something else?" She chirped too-cheerfully, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

The short one answered, a smirk playing about his lips. "He'll have a coffee," He jerked his thumb toward the newest arrival, "and I'll have your name and number." Well, he sure did not lack confidence, Elena had no doubt that he had used that line a thousand times before. She mused for a moment that it probably worked most of the time.

"I'll just get that coffee." She deadpanned.

As she walked back to the coffee machine, grabbing a mug along the way, Elena could hear the swift taunting and laughter that emitted from the giant, followed by a loud thump and a muffled 'ouch'. If it were not for their addition, I might have liked these guys, even with their constant angel speak. They were amusing, even if one of them was flirting so hard he was going to pull a muscle. Now, however, she was wary of the first two by their association with the third. Did they know he had been watching her? Did they care? Were they in on it too? These disturbing questions swirled about her mind and she struggled to keep them from her face, she could tell they would be monitoring her closely. They were talking in harsh whispers again, or two of them were; the short one with the green eyes did not seem to know how to keep his voice low for more than a couple of words.

The staff phone began to ring from behind the counter. Leaving the coffee machine to do its thing, Elena swung around and swept up the receiver in one fluid motion. There was only ever one person who would ring the diner at this time of night.

"James?" She guessed, he liked to keep her company for a little while.

"Yeah," He confirmed, "You okay? You sound… I don't know, kind of freaked."

He knew her well, she knew her voice had taken on a somewhat frantic tone and her breath came swift and shallow. "Yes," She sighed, hearing the lie herself, "No," She corrected in a half-whisper, hoping that no one else would hear her now that the flood-gates were poised to open. "There's this guy who came in and he was staring at me from across the street for ages and now he's here and he wants coffee and I don't know what to do!" She babbled, realising she had pretty much covered everything except… "And he's sat with two other guys." For some reason that seemed important.

James took a moments silence to assess just what was wrong in this scenario, his thinking-face evident even on the phone. "I'll be there in ten," Is all he had to say.

"Thanks," She told him before he hung up.

Hesitantly, she brought the watcher's coffee over to him. She kept her gaze firmly away from his as she placed it in front of him.

"Thank you," He said stiffly, startling Elena from her aversion. She mumbled what she was sure came out as an unceremonious 'you're welcome' and made to leave for the safety of the counter.

She did not make it very far; a hand curled around her wrist, staying her in place. The hand was calloused and coarse and yet the hold was gently and soft, it surprised her to see it was the older of the first men who had clutched at her; she would have thought him to be a much rougher character.

Elena peered up to his mischievous grin, waiting for him to explain. He seemed to get a little flustered, possibly expecting some sort of protest, but she had been too shocked to do so. "Hey," He said when he had recovered his wits, "You want a raisin?" He asked, pulling out a small cardboard box of the dried fruit.

"Not really," Elena answered, thoroughly bewildered by both the question and the fact that he had yet to let go of her wrist – not that he was hurting her, but it was very uncomfortable to be held in place as such by a total stranger.

He beamed, "How about a date, then?" The guy who had walked in with him gave a look that clearly said he wanted to apologise profusely for his friend, whilst the watcher just seemed incredibly confused, as though he really did not understand this play on words.

Wow, smooth! Elena could not help but let out a delicious peel of laughter at that line. "Do you seriously carry those around all the time just in case?"

"Always," He winked.

"And has that pick-up ever worked?" She was trying to embarrass him, but something told her that was not going to happen.

He leaned in toward her, his playful demeanour unperturbed. "Every time," He promised, letting her have her hand back.

Again, Elena could not halt her amusement, "I don't even know your name!" She dramatically replied, bringing a hand to her chest in mock-horror.

This only spurred him on, "Names Dean, now are you gonna tell me yours or do I have to make one up?" He teased, "I quite like the name Nina…"

"You'll be disappointed then," She taunted, "I'm Elena," She sighed, giving in. This guy sure was not about to give up, especially in front of his friends.

The giant cleared his throat, "Nice to meet you, I'm Sam – Dean's brother - and this," He indicated to the watcher, "is Cas." He had certainly gotten my attention with the gift of a name for the creepy stalker, the mentioned being appeared to study me closely – to examine just what I thought of this new information. Cas was definitely a strange name, but beyond that… I just hoped James would get here soon. Even if the cocky guy was starting to grow on me.

"Hello," The weird one greeted in a voice that seemed too low to be real, but his serious expression implied that this was his only pitch. "You saw me earlier." He commented.

"Yeah," Elena confirmed, a little shaken that he had so brazenly mentioned his activities in front of the others. "I, uh, did."

"You have not always been so observant." He told her.

Wait. Surely he did not mean that he had been watching her like that before, without her noticing? That was deeply disturbing. "Why are you telling me this?" She asked in an attempt at boldness. It was unendingly petrifying to discover that this was not the first time.

He paused for a moment, considering his response carefully, his eyes examining her face as he made his explanation. "Because it is time you knew."

"Cas," Sam warned, "you're freaking her out." He was correct, Elena could not decide if she was more alarmed about the fact this man had been watching her for what sounded like quite some time, or the ominous feeling that came with Cas' reply.

"We're not gonna hurt you, trust me," The flirt promised.

Elena bristled, "I don't even know you; how the hell do you expect me to trust you?"

Dean huffed, "Please?" He tried. "Look, we can explain everything, but this ain't the place for it."

"So, what? You expect me to go running off with three strangers? Three _men_?" She demanded incredulously. "We all know how that story ends." Best case scenario they beat her up in an alley – that was the very least of what could happen.

"No one's gonna lay a hand on you, believe me. Just come with us." Sam pleaded. To look at him you wouldn't believe him capable of harming anyone, despite his size, but a girl on her own would stand no chance and looks could be deceiving. She knew that well enough.

"What happens if I say no?" Elena hedged, she only needed a few more minutes, then James would be here and everything would be okay.

"You will come with us." The intense one assured her.

"Cas!" Dean complained, "You can't just say that to people!" He pressed a palm to his face.

"We're wasting time, Dean, her friend is on his way." Cas reasoned. "It has to be restored." He was growing impatient and somewhat furious, as though he had expected me to follow them far more willingly.

The one the watcher had called Dean appraised her with wide-eyed respect. "Smart move," He approved, "I mean, it makes things… complicated for us, but still – good work."

"Uh… thanks, I guess." Elena blushed.

Sam frowned, "Look, we don't want any trouble, just let us explain everything away from here, okay?"

What were they so desperate to have restored? Elena had no clue as to what they were alluding to, but it made her curious – for half a second she considered going with them, just to see what the hell they were harping on about.

"Enough!" Cas fumed.

Elena felt herself lurch forward, only to be caught and righted by Dean who gifted her a sheepish smile that spoke a thousand apologies – but what for?

That is what for. Somehow either the diner had been redecorated, reconstructed into a motel room or she had _moved_. That would be absurd though, even if they could have taken her elsewhere; surely it would have taken longer than the time it took her to blink. The booths and tables were replaced by three beds draped in generic, plaid motel sheets; the spotlights had vanished, a dingy bare bulb hung from the ceiling in its stead; and the freshly painted walls and spotless windows had morphed into peeling floral wallpaper.

"What on Earth is going on?" She heard herself cry, fury flowing through her veins and turning her blood to venom.

"Just stay where you're stood now, okay?" Dean instructed. Elena would have made some sort of retort, but she had noticed the lighter in his hands.

Her breathing hitched and she paled, "What are you gonna do to me?" She shrieked, losing control, "You promised you weren't gonna hurt me." She sounded as unsure as she felt and wondered for the first time why he had bothered flirting with her if he knew this would be their endgame.

"And I'm not, we just have to do this to keep you safe… from yourself."

"What do you mean _protect me from myself_?" She asked, thoroughly confused and terrified. "Answer me!" She demanded when all were silent.

Dean softened, "You were getting your memories back anyway, and it's safer for everyone if we explain them_." That explains the dreams_, she thought. For months she had been having odd dreams, ones she did not quite remember when she woke, but she knew they were strange and she was always left feeling unsettled though she did not know why_. No_, she told herself firmly. Dreams were dreams, what these men were saying was nonsense, it had to be.

Without another word he threw the lighter to the laminate floor, as soon as it landed Alex saw the arcing line of what looked like oil on its surface, spread in a circle right where she stood. There was nothing she could do about it, though; instantly, the ring ignited, halting all routes of escape. Part of her noted she was glad she had chosen to wear a t-shirt to work for once, her usual jumper would only have made this heat worse. Another part of her noted the slightly regretful gleam in her assailant's eyes, the green tinged with immense guilt.

"What are you gonna do to me?" She repeated. Her eyes filled with tears and she felt extremely small and alone. Elena was certain that there could be no good reason for this. Fear had quickly quelled the venom of her bloodstream, icing it over until she was sure that if she moved a muscle she would shatter.

"You need to know who you really are," Cas calmly began, "_what _you really are."

Elena held silent, she knew that should she so much as open her mouth the never-ending sobbing would come and she had decided that if they were going to torture her like this, she would not give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

"You're an angel." Dean informed her.

She blinked, momentarily stunned by his conviction. "This isn't another chat-up line, is it?"

"No." Cas voiced on Dean's behalf, the latter did not seem to understand what Elena had just said.

"Then you're delirious. That's insane – you're insane, you all are." She fumed. It was extremely hot surrounded by flames and she was struggling not to get heated herself. After all, angels did not exist. Not really. It was like vampires and werewolves and fairies and ghosts; none of them were real. They just could not be.

"The fire is hot, is it not?" Cas asked serenely, "A mortal would not feel the heat of Holy fire, they would not be trapped by it."

"You're an idiot." She spat. "Are you telling me that if I'm not an angel then I can walk through the fire?"

"Of course," He agreed, annoyingly emotionally blank. "But if an angel were to walk through it they would be devoured by flame, whereas a human would be unharmed."

Elena seriously thought about just walking through the searing flames to prove how ridiculous this all sounded. She peeked over at Dean who she thought could tell what she had in mind, his mouth was set in a firm line of worry, the lips paling to white with the absent-minded pressure, his eyes pleaded with her and he shook his head. _No, don't risk it_. He was internally shouting. Sam on the other hand was glaring at Cas in a way that insinuated that he was not happy about any of this, though did not exactly prove him to be wrong in his assertion.

"How do you know if I'm an angel or not?" She enquired, "I sure as hell don't." Crap. She had not meant to let slip the slight nagging doubt she had in the back of her mind. What if he was right? She banished the niggling idea and refocused on her captor.

"I am one." He snapped as though it were obvious.

Elena chuckled maniacally, "Yeah, I can see that. Nice wings," She quipped sarcastically. He looked as though he might actually have a retort for that, some half-mad reason as to his lack of plumage. "You're all crazy." She heaved before she plonked herself down cross-legged, suddenly feeling fiercely stubborn. "Listen to me, I am as human as they come, end of story." She began absently humming Zeppelin's Ramble On to keep her from a complete meltdown.

"How can we make her believe?" Dean queried, vaguely noticing one of his favourite songs with a brief smile.

"Give her this," He passed over a small glass vial that glittered with a swirling substance that emitted its own subtle glow of silvery light.

Sam piped up with concern, "I thought the plan was to tell her before she remembered?"

"We don't have time," Cas shook his head sadly, "They know where she is already."

If she had been listening, Elena would have been extremely interested in who they were, but instead she now had her eyes closed to the rest of the world and was lost in her humming and trying to force herself to ignore the impossible heat.

"Fine," Dean muttered grimly, taking the tiny bottle. He reached through the flames – they did him no harm – and placed it before her, clearing his throat. That brought her out of her trance with a start, she had not expected him to be so close, nor half-touching the fire as though it were not there. His mouth still held the same trepidation, but his green orbs gave the impression that he knew whatever was going to go down was for the best. He did not even flinch as the flames licked his shirt, his bare arms and – briefly – his face. Well, he was definitely human – good for him.

"Open it," Cas commanded, the abruptness made Dean straighten up from her height as he strode away to stand by his brother. Distractedly, she mused that the brother's did not really look much alike, except in mannerisms; they both slouched against the wall with the same folded arms and matching apprehensive expression.

Elena directed her attention to the shimmering vial, the contents looked neither liquid, nor gas, nor solid either; but a combination of all three, constantly shifting and morphing from one to the other without settling on any permanent state. The cork that stoppered it was also odd, a strange silver that did not seem solid enough to keep anything from spilling and yet as she turned the bottle over in her palm it did its job as nothing leaked.

Cas was getting ever more impatient. "Open it!" He ordered once again. His entire presence seemed to take on an authoritarian quality, Alex pondered that he possibly expected her to follow his words as soon as they left his mouth. Perhaps she had in another life.

She was too hot to concentrate, the flames were leering maliciously at her. "Get rid of the fire first," She bargained.

To her utter surprise the self-proclaimed angel did just that, he raised his right arm and brought it slowly downwards, the flames mirrored his movement with a reluctant hiss. The circle left a darkened, scorched outline on the false wooden floor, the scent of charring and burning rose around her; she wondered vaguely if they would have to pay for the damages, it would probably be expensive, or if they would skip out on that bill and never return. Cas dragged her back to the present with a raised eyebrow, daring her not to follow through on the deal she had elicited herself.

Inquisitiveness took over and Elena found herself unable to stop from removing the cork, which entailed no difficulty whatsoever. She regarded the others in order to gage just what she was supposed to do with whatever was inside, but all of them watched intently for something – anything – to happen. Perhaps she ought to drink it? Better not, she thought after catching its scent. It did not smell badly – in fact, it smelled better than anything she had smelled before; like sandalwood and strawberries, with a hint of coconut – but it was unexpectedly potent, she was sure the others could smell it from across the room.

She did not have time to dither too much about her expected actions as things began to work for themselves. The glossy substance rose itself sluggishly from the phial, working its way over the brim. Without a second thought, Elena dropped the vial, hearing the glass smash into uncountable shards. She was sure it was moving of its own accord, also that it was moving in her direction, and picking up speed.

Alex began to shrink back, scrambling to get away, but never quite finding her feet from underneath her.

"Dean," Cas growled.

Dean seemed to know exactly what he was meant to do, though he definitely was not okay with it. He was instantly behind her, not allowing her to go any further. His grip upon her shoulders firm, but jarringly comfortable, he dragged his thumbs back and forth across the skin of her shoulders in a soothing manner. "It's okay," He cooed softly, too quiet for the others to hear, Elena realised, "We just need you to remember. You'll be fine, I promise, I won't hurt you again." She thought she must have imagined that final part; _again_? He had not hurt her, did he think his soft restraint bothered her? It did exactly the opposite.

Strangely, the action worked in the best way possible; Elena relaxed into him ever so slightly as the substance shimmered right in front of her face. She still whimpered as it nudged the lips of he closed mouth, it felt blisteringly acidic, but she knew what she had to do. Elena granted the thing entry, a cry of pain escaping as she felt the thing sear its way down her throat.

A blinding light flowed through her and her whole frame shuddered and convulsed dangerously. If it were not for Dean holding her upright, she would have been fitting her way across the floor, probably hitting everything in her path. The glow engulfed her completely, erasing her from all view, even Dean could not see her properly. It felt like someone were rearranging every single atom of Elena's being into an entirely different entity and then doing it all over again as though they did not like what had been the first outcome. And then again. And again. It was beyond unbearable and yet Elena did not make a sound.

After what could have been either minutes or hours everything stopped. Everything. The pain, the light, the fitting, her breathing, her heart. Dean laid her down instantly. How could this happen? Had they not promised not to harm her? Cas had told him she would be fine, this did not look fine to him. Dean knelt down beside her, a blur of fear clouding his vision.

"Sam she's not breathing." His vice spiked with panic. He checked her pulse, two fingers to the side of her neck. Nothing.

"Pulse?" Sam questioned urgently, leaning over Elena's motionless body.

Dean shook his head and Sam sprang into action, his first aid lessons in college paying off finally, he proceeded to perform CPR, anxiously hoping for a beat to show itself. Thirty compressions, two breaths, nothing. Another thirty, another breath, nothing. And so it went on. Dean was sure Sam had gotten to at least one hundred and eighty compressions before he lost all hope. Just when he had needed her to live; he had to apologise to her for what he had done all that time ago and for that she had to know about it, to remember. He needed her to be okay.

"Cas!" He begged, "Do something!"

Cas frowned as though he had never thought this could be a possibility. Nothing should have shut her body down like this, it was not supposed to happen. He stayed completely frozen in mind and body. He did not know what, if anything, he _could _do. "I _can't_, Dean. Not for someone like her." This is not how it should be.

Dean was conflicted. Gruffly, he stood and left Sam to it, he would realise too that there was no point, she was gone. Dean could not do what he needed to do and she could not do what they needed her to do. Maybe this was his punishment. He took the bottle of whiskey from the dresser and did not bother with a glass, that would only slow him down and he was desperate for a buzz, just something to drown out the gnawing in his gut – perhaps he could burn it out with the alcohol, kill off the part of him that felt so… raw. If he damaged it enough, surely it would die off? Or at least die away? He took a long slug, searching for relief.

It came. Under Sam's ministrations something miraculous had happened: Elena _breathed_. The smallest of gasps pushed through her parted lips and she breathed. Her heart pumped. Dean's own heart flickered and faltered at the sound, he could not begin to explain the elation that came over him; elation and dread. Already he liked this girl, her knock-backs to his flirting actually endeared her to him, he was sure she liked him too – at least she trusted him more than Sam and Cas, or seemed to – and now she would have a totally different opinion of him; now she would _know_ him.

Cas flew back into reality, relieved that all was not lost, as it had seemed a moment ago.

Elena stirred, but her eyes would not open, she could move, but only just. Her body ached, but not as much as her head. Her head was a collision of the universe; stars and planets collapsing in on one another, smashing into moons, shattering suns. Coherent thought was hardly possible, thoughts just would not stay in a straight line; they kept weaving and tumbling, crossing over each other. The agony consumed her in ways she had never known. Faintly she could hear the merest hint of conversation, but she was not entirely positive that it was real, none of it made any sense.

Sam lifted her unconscious body and lay her gingerly on one of the beds. She looked so peaceful, though he knew that would end once she woke. He wondered if everything would come back all at one, like she would know everything instantly, be the person she once was; or if it would be slow and confusing. He hoped for the former, he knew himself the torture of getting your memories back piece by piece.

"Do you think she'll even want to see us?" Dean mumbled quietly, interrupting Sam's thoughts, not wanting her to wake and believing her to be trapped in the sea of slumber. He sounded concerned and… guilty.

"Of course," Came Sam's reply, "Cas is her family… sort of and she doesn't know me." Alex could hear the shrug he gave in his voice.

"She won't want to see me, if she remembers." There was a profound sadness to his words that rattled about inside her head, why would she not want to see him? What could he possibly have done to her?

"Dean," Cas finally spoke up, "She knew what she was doing." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, to hold on to his own conviction.

Dean grunted, "Did she? Did she really?" He probed, suspecting ignorance on her part, "She was never like you, Cas, not when I knew her."

"She did." Cas guaranteed confidently, "Her rebellion was well-informed. If I had listened to her, I may have gone against Heaven with her."

"You said that about Anna." Dean reminded him sarcastically.

Cas was at a loss, "This was different. It was for you." He stopped short in reminiscing.

Sam checked her pulse again, "She'll be fine, Dean." He comforted, "Won't she, Cas?"

Cas did not reply.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean roared, then, realising he might wake Elena, breathing, "You promised."

"I," Cas sighed, "I underestimated things, Dean. I'm sorry."

"Can it." Dean snapped.

Elena could not concentrate on their words anymore. Things seemed hazy to her, two lives compressed into one in her mind. They had been right, she was an angel – much as it had seemed ludicrous to her – but that was not all, she was more than that, but she could not remember what else. She knew Cas, but that was fuzzy too. She remembered an absurd heat, hotter than Holy Fire. And pain, worse pain than she was in now; her skin being flayed, lumps of her flesh torn from her bones, veins being peeled away, broken bones, organs being wrenched from their homes within her… and then all of it repeated. Hundreds of times.

Shrapnel of memory assaulted her in flashes; some sort of trial, Castiel advising her, her first visit to Earth, blood on her hands, hiding. All these were angel memories, but she still retained the human ones of this vessel; he parents death, moving to the US, her first kiss. Her memories seeped together in an amalgamation of confusion.

Another onslaught of agony swept through her head, marring everything for a few seconds with a burning blackness with just one face; two apple-green eyes. She remembered more clearly how she had come to Earth, why she had been sent there, why she had been sent to… The important thing is she remembered Dean. Everything he had done. Now she finally grasped Dean's expressed disquiet to Sam. He thought she would hate him, but Cas was right; she had known what she was doing. And she would do it all over again.

Elena let out a small groan as her eyes drifted open, slow and fluttering. Outside the window the sun was only just putting in an appearance through murky clouds that threatened rain. Dean was leaning against the farthest wall, tense and anxious, he could not meet her gaze; though she was not really able to focus on anything for long anyway. His brother had resigned to tapping away at his laptop, oblivious to the world. The angel on the other hand, was immediately above her, blocking out the rest of her view as he towered over her, examining. His face was a mask of indifference.

She made to sit up, but could not. Her arms were useless bands of water and she could find no strength in them. Seeing her struggle the angel heaved her up, timidly resting her against the beds headboard. He seemed reluctant to be close to her, as though he had done something terrible. Of course, he had, she remembered scraps of it. _I can't, _he had told her_. I'm sorry,_ and then he had left her there without any real reason why.

"Castiel?" She tested, knowing her voice to be weak and yet feeling her anger flow through her. "How _could_ you?" She railed, trying to pull herself up; she could not, everything hurt too much.

"It was lamentable," He brushed aside her ferocity with a pacifying glower, knowing exactly what she meant. "Dean was saved. The mission was just."

That had always been his answer to everything, it did not matter what he did so long as it was just. She had hoped he might have changed if he had thought it right to restore her, she thought he might even be sorry. "How could you l_eave_ me there?!"

Castiel's face changed, closed itself off, wiped clean of emotion. "It was… regrettable." He answered monotonously, his gravelly tones not even faltering, "But necessary." That was a blow, in all her time there after he left, she had never seen such abandonment as '_necessary_'.

"Necessary?" She spat sarcastically, "You _promised_!"

"I know," Castiel actually bowed his head in shame. Good. He deserved to feel shame right now. "There was nothing I could do."

"What, besides leaving me in Hell?!"

Castiel grimaced, "Tauriel, I-" _Tauriel_. That was her real name, her true name, the one she had before she came back.

"You were supposed to save her too?" Dean roared incredulously, his eyes darting like daggers flying toward Castiel.

"No," Castiel sighed, "That's why I left, she had played her role in the mission. She was to be left behind."

Realisation dawned upon Elena. "Heaven didn't know about my first task." She could not believe she had not thought of this in all her time spent in Hell, remembering the first time she ever set eyes on Dean Winchester. "The order didn't come from God."

"No," The angel agreed, "It did not, though I didn't know that then. They wanted it to be quiet." He spoke with the honesty that she had always associated with Castiel, she recollected that other angels could lie and lie well, but Castiel had trouble convincing anyone when he attempted falsehood – which was not often.

She nodded, "I believe you."

"Someone gonna explain?" Sam butted in.

Elena did not know if she wanted to explain. There is a reason she had offered herself up for the mission. What she had done, what she had been ordered to do had set into motion something that the brothers would not have thanked her for and she found herself not wanting them to know how stupid she had been.

"Please?" Dean implored, his gaze entirely cemented on Elena, watching every emotion cross her mind. Without herself noticing, she had already launched into the tale as if unable to refuse him.

_"Please. I just need some help," a voice nagged in her mind. It really was as compelling as they told her it would be. As it should be when your charge makes their first call. "Please." It begged. _

_"You know what you have to do." Castiel reminded her. And she did. Without hesitation she flashed them both to Earth, just as she had been taught to. It was difficult for her to compose herself, to hide her pride in actually reigning in her powers and getting them exactly where they needed to be. She had been told that was a science in itself. _

_They were not visible to the charge, nor were they supposed to be. He stood in pouring rain outside a bustling hospital at night, tears mingling with the raindrops that crawled down his face. The first pure human face she had ever witnessed. It was beautiful; two powerfully emerald eyes, one perfectly straight nose, two muscled arms, two legs and the best part: only one head! _

_Everyone she had ever spoken to had multiple heads of ridiculous animals or things that she had never seen the likes of, whilst she looked for all the world like a human. It was nothing short of brilliance to actually see up-close what humanity was. _

_If it were not for the subject's obvious grief she would have stared in wonder for far longer, but the expression this mortal wore gave her a peculiar sinking sensation in her stomach. She had never felt such twisting agony on the behalf of someone else, it pained her to see this man hurting. Not that she would ever dare to tell Castiel that. She was supposed to be emotionless and not let the other side of herself get in the way. _

_The man began to speak again. "I can't live without him." He pleaded, "What do I have to do to change this? Give me something, goddammit!" Blasphemy. That shocked her. Why should God send her to watch over a blasphemer? "Give me a sign." He demanded. "Please, God." The man whispered, his voice losing any fire it might have once had as he slid to his knees in desolation. _

_She glance to Castiel, unsure of herself, she did not want to lead him down this path knowing where it would lead him. Castiel gave her a stern nod. His eyes scrutinised her carefully, narrowing when they found her doubt concealed behind close-knit eyebrows. She blanked her face and stepped forward, pushing her sodden hair from her eyes, and knelt before the man. _

_Slowly she pressed a finger to the dirt in front of him and dragged it in a line. She watched him blink in open wonder, of course he could not see her but he could see what she left behind: a single line. She drew another, intersecting the first in the exact middle. She had drawn a cross, not one of holy purpose, but one of evil. It confused her to think that this plan could be the will of heaven. _

_She stood up, frowning. He stirred at the movement of air, looking up right to where he would see her face if she were visible. His face swiftly changed from despair to confusion, then to a small smile; as though he were giving her a silent thank you. This time she let Castiel see her pride and she beamed at her charge and breathed "You're welcome, Dean Winchester." _

"You sent him to the cross-roads demon? You made him sell his soul!" Sam accused, "YOU?"

She did not like to hear him shout, but she understood. Hell, she wanted to scream at herself too. It was her fault Dean sold his soul, her fault he was sent to hell. She had left out the part Castiel played. "I'm sorry, if I could change it I would. Did Castiel not tell you all this?"

"How could you?" Sam spat venomously. His face an array of disgust. "You destroyed everyth-"

"Sam, cool it." Dean cut off. His eyes still unwaveringly fixed upon the girl. Her distress was evident.

"I didn't know," She whispered, too embarrassed by her own naïvety to raise her voice. "I was young and it was my fist order."

"You were young?" Sam cried, "You're a freaking angel, aren't you guys all, like, as old as time or something?"

"I was fifteen." She deadpanned, to the shock of all but Castiel. "You think I wanted any of this? He was my first charge, I was supposed to guide him."

"And you did," Sam agreed acidly, "Right into Hell."

Dean shoved his brother. "Knock it off, Sammy, she said she was sorry." He gave Sam a silent warning. Then paused, "You're fifteen?"

"I was fifteen," She corrected, "When Sam died. The first time."

"And now?" He asked.

She thought for a moment, in Hell a month seemed like ten years and she had been there for 840 years in Hell-time so seven years, plus the year she'd been human. "I'm Twenty-three, I think." She answered finally. Wow, she had missed an awful lot of time stuck in Hell and then a fake life.

"But you look the same," it was Dean's turn to be confused. It was true, but then again she had always looked like this, from her birth to when she was brought back upstairs, nothing had ever changed about her appearance. "How'd you get your meat-suit not to change?"

"That's not a vessel, Dean," Castiel informed him, "That's her true form."

_"Why don't I look like everyone else?" Tauriel asked. The other angels were vastly different what with their many heads and limbs; she only had two arms and two legs, and worse: only one head! She could sometimes hear them whisper about her, calling her awful names like half-breed and abomination. She could not understand why she should be different. He could not understand why she would want to be the same. _

_Castiel studied her curiously with the head that looked like a lion. "You are half angel, Tauriel, you know that." _

_"Yes," She whined, "But should I not at least have two heads?" _

_He laughed, "Your mother did not have two heads." _

_"But father has four." She sulked. Something about this child drew Castiel to emotions he did not quite understand, but he knew he felt… warmer toward her than he had any other angel in all of time. That scared him more than he cared to admit, and yet he knew that this little girl would never be so much as unkind to him. He would never comprehend why it was her own father wanted nothing at all to do with her. _

"Wait!" Sam struggled to comprehend Castiel's ramblings. "You're only half-angel? How can that help us?"

"She's part human, Sam," Castiel informed him, "She is invaluable to us."

Sam did not appear convinced, but he let it drop, peeking over at the youngest brother Elena knew it would take an awful lot of grovelling for him to forgive her for her mistake. She was not sure if she were in his place whether or not she would ever forgive such a horrible act.

For a long time no one spoke. Was it really such a surprise that she was part-human? _Ah,_ she realised, _yes; it was_. She was the first and for all she knew she was the only human-angel offspring, angels were not designed to be… drawn to mortals in that way.

"What do you need me for?" Elena finally asked, she had been curious from the start, but now it was more like she _needed_ to know.

Castiel narrowed his eyes in an assessment, he did not know if she would acquiesce to his request or not, it would be an enormous favour to beg of her. "We need your power."

"What for?" She bristled. An angel's power could do awesome and dangerous things, the power of The First was rumoured to do so much more. After all, God only let half-breeds live if they had something to offer to the world. It is not his fault if their use is not discovered. There had to be some property in her that was yet unquantified.

It was Dean who replied this time. He had said nothing for a long time and Elena had thought he would be furious with her. "You've got more angel juice than anything we know of, we need you to ice an angel..."

"No," She said too-quickly. "I- I can't. It's not natural."

"And you are?" Sam snapped. That was the question of her entire existence: was it natural for an angel and a mortal to conceive and would their child be an abomination? It was something Elena recalled vaguely that had plagued her all her life. "Anyway, you've done it before, killed one, Cas told us."

"Sam!" Dean hissed, getting beyond irritated with his brother's animosity, it just was not like him to be so cruel. He turned back to Elena pleadingly. "It's not permanent, but it'll help us. We have to gank Myantion."

Elena froze. "I know that name…"

"And he knows you," Castiel told her.

Ah, she remembered him. "Then we're all screwed."

Castiel seemed mildly surprised. "You know of him?"

"You could say that." She responded with a wan smile. There would be no chance of surviving if he knew she was here. "He knows I'm out, doesn't he?" She said, Cas' words from before he restored her grace coming back to her: _they know where she is already. _

The angel affirmed with a frown. "It's what you would call a 'long shot', I understand." So he knew how futile any attempts were.


	2. Useless

**Forgot to mention in the last chapter that I have made up a lot of things about angels for this story and have changed some facts from the show. These will all be clear later on (hopefully) and there will be a reason for each alteration. **

She did agree to it, eventually, but they still had not told her what she was expected to do. She had no idea how to use her powers really, she had only ever been taught certain things and most of those were still fuzzy. Elena could only remember what lead her… downstairs, more than that was a haze of moments that she was not positive were real.

_Even here his face was as perfect as it had always been, only now it was not the only human face she knew; but this one – this one she would never grow tired of seeing. _

_There was something off about seeing it down here. He did not belong and yet his eyes gleamed in the firelight, singing with glee – he believed what Alastair had told him: that he was meant for this. She knew he was wrong, she hoped he was wrong. _

_She had been there as long as he had – longer even – but she did not like to think of that. When the hounds dragged what scraps were left of him to the rack that first time she had almost cried, something that went against everything she had been taught. Then again, the actions that lead her here in the first place did that too, so why should she refrain? She knew the answer of course, it was for him. She knew that if the first thing he saw when he woke up down here was a crying girl he would not be strong enough to last, she needed him to last. At least until Castiel could get them both out like he had promised, like God had planned. _

_He was unconscious for a long time while Alastair strung him up, he hung limply, a vulnerability painted upon his face such as she had never seen him wear but in sleep and she would have begged for his eternal slumber here if only so as he would never know the pain. _

_Alastair caught her gaze, following its path to the mortal. "How does it feel to see how badly you failed him?" He sneered. "Your precious charge in Hell, weren't you supposed to stop this?" He laughed sardonically in her face, his breath smelled like rotting insides. "Oh, that's right. From what I hear they say it was you that flung him to the pit. Nice work, it would have taken him a lot longer to go to that demon without your help. Now I have him here, my protégé, as it were." _

_All throughout his speech she had kept quiet, it would only please him to truly know the guilt that weighted her from that day onward – she wished she had never drawn that cross. But at his final remark, she was unable to stop herself from blanching. He could not mean that really – could he? Dean could never become Alastair's apprentice, she would not let him, but she had no real way to stop him. _

_Alastair chuckled maniacally. "You had your chance to protect him, to decide what was right for him and you messed up. Time to let the professionals deal with him now, sweetheart." _

_Tauriel was close to breaking, she had already been on the brink of tears and would have very nearly let them out. Instead she saw him waking – confused and terrified – and she vowed to herself that she would never make another sound in Hell. _

_She came very close a few times though. Day after day, month after month, year after year she had to watch him suffer alongside her. All the while she underwent the same inane tortures, but Tauriel never felt her own agony – she felt his. As her ribcage was ripped open, she would feel the whip as it slashed his back to ribbons; as they slowly peeled her veins from within her one by one, she felt the rip as they flayed his skin piece by piece; they broke his bones, they broke her heart. For decades. But nothing crushed her so completely as when that broken, beaten husk that was Dean Winchester finally said 'yes'. _

_Her veins turned to ash as her heart gave in to the flames of her own personal hell. He was making the single biggest mistake of his life – or, afterlife. Every night for thirty years Alastair had come to Dean to make the same offer over and over again: Dean either 'punishes' souls and gets off the rack or he stays another day. He had held out longer than most, since she had been there they had been the only two to refuse. Until he changed his mind. _

_When a righteous man spills blood in Hell, so shall the first seal be broken. That's what the angels had told her – what it said in The Book – her kind were supposed to prevent this and instead they had used her to set it in to motion. She would never forgive herself for allowing herself to be manipulated into kick-starting his descent, for bringing about the beginning of the end. The apocalypse. _

_She had to pay for what she had done. "Alastair!" She had screeched, her voice soft and brittle from disuse. Dean, whole and unmarked once more, startled; he was probably shocked that she had made her first sound in thirty years in the shape of the demon's name. She was a little surprised herself. _

_Alastair faltered briefly on his rounds, he had stopped trying to persuade her years ago, he turned on his heel, a leer hanging from his mouth. "What is it, my sweet?" He growled, "Want to join us at last?" The worst thing, she thought at that moment, about demons was that when they left their eyes entirely black you could never follow their gaze exactly, never pin point an emotion. _

_"Put me on his rack." She demanded, the idea half-formed in her mind. _

_Alastair tilted his head like a sinister questioning puppy. "And why would you want that?" _

_"To atone for my sins." She answered, "This is my fault, and I should be the one to pay for it." _

_Alastair grinned, his teeth flashing, "That you shall, my dear." He paused in thought, "It would perhaps be advantageous for him to break a strong soul first and you _are_ a strong soul." Dean looked wary, it was obvious that he never wanted to hurt another soul, but at the same time he would not change his decision. Tauriel could feel his searching frown upon her, Dean really had no idea what he was about to start. _

"Elena?" Dean called from the kitchenette, interrupting her thoughts. Castiel had taken Sam with him to get some food, the youngest brother still gave Elena nasty glances whenever he could. She looked up expectantly. "Can I talk to you?"

"Uh, sure," She replied, startled and guarded, he should not want to speak to her. "What about?"

He paled, he had obviously wanted to ease into his chosen subject with small talk and instead he felt shameful in trying to skirt around the issue. Dean came and settled himself onto the bed adjacent to the one Elena sat on. "Hell." He finally answered, reluctance marring his features.

"No, I can't," She said too-quickly, "I'm sorry." She could feel herself curling into a ball, her knees drawing up into her body without any conscious decision.

His eyes searched her face, "Please?" She did not answer, she could not even look his way. He went on regardless, "I remember you. In Hell. I mean, you were the only one I… I _need_ to talk about it. To apologise-"

"For what?" She cut him off, thoroughly bewildered, he did not need to apologise for anything, she asked for it. "That was not your doing." She could not even bring herself to be anything other than vague about it.

"I tortured you, goddammit!" He was getting frustrated now, he would not have her dismissing his apology, he needed forgiveness, he needed closure. "If it were me, I would have ganked your ass a hundred times by now."

"Dean," She complained, "You were there, I asked for it."

"To 'atone' for sins you didn't want to commit in the first place!"

Her head snapped up, she had never told anyone that, "How do you know that?" She flung at him in an attempt at contempt that did not quite cover her confusion.

Dean smiled sheepishly. "You talked," He informed her and, when she looked about to argue, he added "In your sleep."

She had never known herself to sleep-talk, it was strange to find out something about herself that she had never even thought about. She guessed things would be like that a lot from now on.

"It's the only time I heard your voice." He said, unable to stop himself, his voice misting over. "It was the only thing I had to look forward to at night." She did not respond, she did not know how. "You know, at first when Alastair told me what you did, I hated you. I_ enjoyed_ watching as I tore chunks from you. I _wanted _to hurt you." He seemed unable to contain his words. "But then I heard you. You were always banging on about how the angels betrayed you, how you wished you'd questioned the order." He chuckled mirthlessly, "You said I didn't deserve it, that you wanted me to be happy. You called me perfect a lot." He smiled to himself, but she did not see, she was too busy calculating what to say.

He waited for her to speak, not wanting to disturb her thoughts, he could see her sifting through things in her mind. "You were the first human I ever saw," She told him, giggling at his surprised expression, "All I had ever known was angels with more heads and limbs than I could care to count, seeing you made me feel… normal. And I ruined that."

"You gonna tell me that you think what I did to you was penance, and that it was... right?" He was angry again, "It wasn't, everything I did to you – once I knew about the order, it got harder and harder to… you know."

She shook her head and he groaned. "You have nothing to be sorry for, you know that right?"

"Then you don't either." She countered.

To her bewilderment he laughed, an actual deep-down, belly laugh. "Cas said you'd be stubborn about this."

"And you're not gonna give up either, are you?" She asked, knowing already what his answer would be.

"Not a chance," He smirked.

"Fine," She sighed. "I'll forgive you, if you forgive me?" He looked unconvinced. "Take it or leave it."

Dean could see her unwavering determination, despite his misgivings he did feel a little better talking to her about it, but it still troubled him that she saw this as partly her own fault. "I forgive you." He told her reluctantly.

She suppressed another bout of mirth, she could tell he still did not believe her to be at fault, but he had forgiven her nonetheless. "What else did Castiel tell you about me?" She enquired, latching on to what he had said about her being stubborn. "I don't really remember much before…"

"He told us about what you are, about the rebellion you tried to incite, why you stopped hiding. All of it." He told her honestly. Dean wondered if she really knew herself at this moment, it must have been some trip to discover you were not even wholly the species you thought you were and then not to have the time to sort through what you did know.

She shook her head, "I can recall back to that," She paused in thought, "But pretty much everything before that is… tricky."

Dean would have asked her more, tried to jog her memory a little, see if he could help; she looked so small and lost, still holding her knees to herself. Unfortunately, that was about the time that Sam and Castiel returned with what looked to be copious amounts of junk food. Sam merely grunted in greeting, rattled by the sight of his older brother seemingly having been chatting away happily with the very person that lead him to Hell.

"Sam, a word. Now." Dean gave his brother an unwavering scowl.

The brothers wandered to the kitchenette, both of them clearly aggravated by the other's actions and Elena could not help but shiver as guilt crawled up her back, she knew she would feature heavily in what was bound to be a very heated conversation. Sure enough, the hushed tones erupted into blazing shouts.

"You knew it was her?" Sam was blaring.

Dean nodded, "Of course I did; Alastair never stopped telling me." He was holding himself back – literally – he had hold of the counter behind him, clutching so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

Sam gave a shocked gasp, Dean never mentioned that to anyone. "Then how can you be here with her? She threw you into Hell, Dean, Hell."

"I would have gone to that demon eventually, Sam. Only then I would be following dad's example." Dean shot back truthfully, he knew the cross-roads demon would have come to mind with or without Elena's sign.

"Dad did what he thought was right," Sam countered.

"And so did I – so did she!" Dear roared, it was frightening to see him have to restrain himself from harming his own brother because of her. "Christ, Sammy! She started a freaking _rebellion_ to stop the Hell Hounds, you_ know_ that! She went to _Hell_, Sam, she's paid enough!"

Sam noticed Elena's observation of them. "How did you even start that rebellion, huh?"

"I was trying to make sure Dean survived Hell, to get him out before he went in if I could…"

_"Why are you doing this, Tauriel?" Anna was asking, concern heavy on her delicate features. _

_Tauriel frowned, it was obvious to her what needed to be done. "He can't go there, you and I know that. You know what will happen if they let his go to Hell, what it will start." _

_"The apocalypse." Anna agreed gravely, "But what if it really is God's will?" _

_Here in a deserted alleyway in the middle of Chicago, the cold and damp crept through their clothes and seeped to the bone. She shivered, but not from the cold. "He would not want the mortals to die, just as he does not wish angels to die," Tauriel shrank to the wall as a bright light flooded part of the alley and slowly disappeared around a corner. Just a car._

_"What do you need from me, Tau?" Anna was always going to be the first to become as suspicious as Tauriel was of their superiors. There had been rumours of strange orders being handed down from above and no one was certain they were definitely from the main man, though no one dare say it._

_Tauriel relaxed slightly, "I need you to get a message to Castiel. Tell him to get a team together, Dean is going to Hell – I can't stop it, but we need to raise him from perdition as soon as he gets there." _

_Anna nodded, a done deal. "You think he'll turn down there? Torture souls? Break the seal?" _

_"I think I would." _

_"You need to be careful," Anna warned, "The angels are talking about you, about you trying to break the demon deal, they're calling it a rebellion." Despite her expression full of caution, her voice was tinged with something akin to admiration. _

_Tauriel laughed harshly, "For that I would need people on my side."_

"… I went to that demon, you know." She sighed, "Tried everything, offered my soul instead – offered a hundred – she wouldn't budge." Elena became fascinated with her shoe. "I even tried to kill her, but she told me- she told me if I did that she'd drag you straight to the Pit with her. I- I couldn't risk it."

"That's hardly a rebellion." Sam scoffed.

"No, it isn't," She agreed, "But there were angels that sought me out and went against Heaven, disobeyed orders they thought questionable, searched for God, some even helped me track down that damn demon." She explained. "I guess most of them are dead now."

She looked to Castiel and he could not meet her gaze, she could tell she was right. "What about Anna?" She pressed, Anna had been the one to spread the word after all.

"She's dead." Dean informed her sadly, he was somewhat distant as he said it. She wondered why that could be, but did not want to question him on it. She knew that look in his eyes, the one that said he never wanted to talk about it. Remembering little bits about him came easily to her, easier than recalling things about herself even.

Elena gave a silent 'o', it came as a blow to know that one of the only others to see that something was wrong in Heaven could have been slain. Anna was a good friend as far as angels went. She could feel the tears prickling in her eyes, but she froze them as best she could.

Sam chuckled mirthlessly, "So she died because of you?"

"No," Elena retorted in a small voice, she did not know herself whether that was the truth.

"It was her choice to become human, Sam." Dean reminded, "She took her own Grace out, not Elena." _Wow_, she had not known that. So Anna had _fallen_ too, but it sounded to have been her choice not a decision made for her, unlike with Elena. Curiosity overwhelmed her, but she did not think she would like the answers.

Sam thought for a moment, his argument failing. "Still, Dean, no one would have _had_ to die if she didn't send you to the Pit!"

"Sam, what you must understand is that Dean was her charge, it goes against every fibre of her being to do anything that might harm him." Castiel confided, startling everyone with his sudden involvement.

Sam was unperturbed. "So she didn't do it herself, but she didn't question it before it was too late."

"No, she didn't because that is how she has been taught." Castiel responded, his face pensive. "When Dean prayed for help, she couldn't _stop_ from going to him. It is an irresistible pull for a Guardian and you are taught to give predesigned signs or assistance."

"But I thought you were his Guardian? You seemed to stay away pretty easily." Everyone could see that Sam himself was losing confidence in his own words.

Castiel shook his head. "I am not his true Guardian. It physically _pulls_ her, _pains_ her if she doesn't answer a call."

"Really?" Sam asked, thoroughly surprised.

Elena did not know why, but she thought she saw a flicker of concern in him. "Yes, it's rather… uncomfortable." She winced remembering times in Hell when Dean had gone upstairs and prayed to anyone for help and she could not leave Hell to answer him. It was far worse than any of the tortures had been.

"Excruciating." Castiel corrected.

"Did- did you feel it in… there?" Dean enquired a small frown tugging the corners of his lips downward.

His concern made her blush, she nodded, not trusting herself not to tell him how agonising it had been; like every atom being torn away one at a time.

Dean scowled, "If I'd known it would hurt-"

"It wasn't that bad." She tried to convince him, but she had never been that good a liar and she knew it. Dean arched a brow but did not call her on it, and for that she was grateful.

No one spoke for a while, seemingly Sam had lost most of his anger and was struggling for a reason to hate Elena still. Elena yawned, she was dog tired and so she should be; it was six in the morning. Her stomach growled loudly and, being the only sound in the room, drew everyone's attention. She internally shushed the beast within and nudged her belly to get it to quit being so vocal, but it refused. She had meant to eat something on her shift, but had somehow gotten distracted.

Without a word Dean threw her a burger from one of the bags. "You do eat, right?"

She frowned, "Of course, why would you-" She stopped herself, How had she forgotten that angels do not eat? "The angel thing, yeah? I guess half-angels get hungry." She shrugged, her stomach giving another moan of discontent.

"Eat." He ordered.

She unwrapped it and took a bite… instantly grimacing. Onions. She hated onions. Elena made sure to scrape them all out before she went any further. She glanced up to see Dean gawking incredulously at her. "What?" She demanded.

"You don't like onion? Everyone likes onion!" He spluttered.

"Not people with taste buds." Elena teased.

He did not reply. Instead he brought over two more burgers. How many had these guys bought? From the looks of things; a lot. She cautiously checked for any pesky onions sneaking in her meal only to find out that Dean had removed them and 'taken one for the team' as he put it by putting them in his own burgers.

Perhaps being an angel again was not going to be so bad. The food was good at least. Sometime after the junk food someone, Elena could not tell who by this point, suggested that she go to sleep and Elena gladly complied.

…

"C'mon, you can do it." Somehow Dean was still grinning in encouragement despite Elena's contemptuous grimace.

They had been trying to jog her memory, to get her to recall just how to 'zap' from place to place. Castiel was no use, he just said it was 'instinctual' and kept banging on about how she had 'gotten it much quicker the first time' which only made her that bit more frustrated with herself. They were trying to get her to 'full-power' as soon as possible, but Elena doubted it _was_ possible. For the last two hours the most she could do was become invisible for a few moments at a time and even that took tremendous effort. She was exhausted and she could not even flash across the room, let alone across the country like they seemed to expect. She could recall doing these things before, but not how, they had seemed like second nature before but now they were virtually impossible.

"Maybe you just need some more rest," Dean suggested. To him Elena still looked pretty wrecked from getting her Grace back and he thought her time would be better spent recuperating than draining herself completely, but Castiel had shot that idea down by reminding him that she was their only hope in the Myantion fiasco.

"Maybe I just can't do it." She snapped grumpily.

Castiel seemed to be getting even more frustrated even than Elena, he paced the motel room ceaselessly. "Why is this not working?" He begged of no one in particular. Dean could see Elena's downcast face grow resentful at his words, it was not her fault she could not remember, but Castiel continued. "You were supposed to be more powerful than anyone and now you cannot even stay unseen for more than a minute. Maybe we were wrong."

"Of course you were freaking wrong!" She fumed. "I told you I couldn't do this, but you didn't listen!" She could feel herself getting into a rage and could not for the life of her stop it. She did not seem to notice what the others could not help but see. The room dimmed somewhat with her surge of anger, behind her great shadows appeared. She did not witness her wings. "I am not the one to help and you know it, I'm useless and I am never going to get this!" She stormed out of the room, snapping it back into the midday light, and as she did so every bulb in the room shattered, not that she noticed; she was already out of the motel room and heading for the parking lot. So blinded was she by her own anger that she could not see the obvious.

She heard heavy footsteps crunch the gravel as someone came to stand by the Impala as she sat on the hood. She did not bother to look up to see who it was, she was embarrassed by her short-comings and failures already and she had not been a restored part-angel for a day yet.

"You know," The voice began, "Dean will kill you if he sees you sat on there."

That startled her, not the voice, not the joke; but the owner of that voice making a joke with her was a whole other thing. This was the first time Sam had spoken to her since last night. He had kept to himself all morning, pretending he was no longer interested in her help.

"I could always disappear," She shrugged, "For a few seconds anyway." She finished with a weak attempt at a laugh.

Sam patted her shoulder awkwardly, "You'll get it, you just need time."

"From what I hear we don't have an awful lot of that." She doubted she would ever master any of this.

"You'll get it." He sounded much more confident than she had expected. "You already got blowing the lights down and the wings, the rest will come." She realised he was half-right, but if she could only be somewhat powerful when angry she was not much use.

Eventually they coaxed her back inside, but she had already decided what she was going to do. She just had to wait for them all to go to sleep.


	3. Running

Elena was certain no one had followed her, probably no one had tried. She was not quite sure how she felt about that right now. She wanted to be alone and yet, at the same time, she _needed _someone to be there; to tell her that things were going to be okay. Especially now she was beginning to doubt everything.

She maybe should not have stolen the Impala. Dean would most likely kill her if he tracked her down; and besides, she did not have a licence, had never even taken a lesson. Not that she cared too much about the latter, but Dean? She minded that he would be pissed at her, he would feel betrayed. She had been their supposed Obi Wan and now she had skipped out on them and taken Baby to boot. She was dead if he found her, and that was a certainty.

A part of her wondered whether or not she was trying to be found. She knew how important that car was to Dean, he would do anything to get it back. Elena thought she must have a death wish; there was no way in Hell Dean would not come looking for his precious car. Perhaps a foolish aspect of her wanted him to look for her, to find her, so she could pretend he was desperate to search the country for her, to pretend she mattered to just one person.

She had been driving for sixteen hours straight now, having taken Dean's keys from the dresser and fled as soon as everyone appeared to be sleeping. Even Castiel was asleep in a chair. Something tugged in the back of her mind that it was not right, but she ignored it. She had no idea what was 'right' anymore. She marvelled that she had driven for so long and not noticed, though she had absolutely no idea where she was. Driving was far more relaxing than she could have imagined. Maybe she had done it before, it came easily to her despite a lack of outright knowledge. The highway was crowded with evening traffic when she realised she was famished. The sign for the next exit heralded a small diner and some sort of sleazy no-tell-motel. Perfect.

Elena parked up and popped the trunk so she could change the Impala's plates as she had seen the Winchesters do a thousand times before. Only then did she realise that the compartment that held the plates also contained the Winchesters' entire arsenal; their fake I.D.'s, their holly water, their knives and guns and stakes, everything. And it was locked. In her haste she had neglected to think about what possible code they would use.

The car had been John's and she knew Dean well enough to know that he would never change his father's combination. So it had to be something John knew his sons would never forget. Glaring at the combination lock as though it had mortally offended her, Elena sifted through what she knew about the Winchester father. He never remembered the boys' birthdays so she ruled out both of those, he did not care about his own so that would be of no use even if she did know it. Ever since his wife's death he had stopped caring about anything else…

Almost automatically, her fingers filed in the numbers that all of Heaven and Hell knew. 110283. Or November 2nd 1983. The date that John Winchester never moved past, the one he never forgot. It would be ridiculous to believe that John would not have imprinted that date into his sons' minds for all eternity.

Sure enough, the compartment opened. Another stab of guilt filled her as the familiar faces stared accusingly from the I.D. box which had been left open, she sealed it quickly. She switched the plates as quickly as possible and closed the compartment, trying desperately not to think of anything and failing miserably.

Sullenly, she stole into the warmth of the diner. Ordering the first thing that came into her mind: a bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon and a coffee. It would not have mattered what she ordered, it all tasted like disappointment anyway. So far everything that came with her patchwork memory was nothing more than a disappointment and she was sure the others saw that too, Better to be a disappointment for running, than for not being able to do what they asked; this way they need not know how useless she really was.

Having finished and paid, and with no other excuse to linger – not to mention the incredible fatigue that came with not sleeping for fort-eight hours – she stood to leave. The image of a nice warm bed and the gentle promise of a shower beckoned her forcefully. She heaved her bag onto her shoulder and set off.

She would have made it there, had it not been for the human branch that caught her wrist lightly – if she struggled at all she would be free, but she would not do that. It amazed her beyond reason that she should recognise this touch; after all, it had only happened once before in a diner a thousand miles away from here.

The slightest pressure of his index finger against her forearm told her she was to sit across from him, even as she did he did not remove his hand; it was clear that he thought she would bolt at the first opportunity… that had been her plan. Right now he knew her better than she did herself.

Finally she tilted her head up to see him… and stilled. She would have been ready for wrath and fury, was prepared even for a tirade of aggression, but instead she was met by him appraising her as if he understood implicitly what she was going through. That scared her more than anger could have. She would have _got_ anger, but this empathy? She could not comprehend it. It was completely alien to her. She realised he was waiting for her to speak, but what could she say? 'Sorry' sounded weak and pathetic and he would spot the lie even before it left her lips, a casual 'hello' would no doubt piss him off. And really, what else was there?

"How'd you find me? " She asked without thinking.

He smirked. "You really thought we wouldn't be watching you like hawks, Elle?" He was grinning playfully as though this were a game. She did not think he had noticed what he had called her, she supposed Elena was too long for him to bother with, and Tauriel was not exactly a normal name. She was not sure what name she should go by now; one was from a life she could not remember and the other from a life that was entirely false. "Cas is keeping tabs." That explanation was one she should have anticipated. Elena thought for a moment that she had been naïve not to have used the angel-warding sigils to prevent that. Not that she could clearly picture them for herself. Ugh, this was so frustrating for her; she wanted to scream.

She frowned. "So where are Sam and Cas now?" She scanned the dinner and found no trace of neither the giant nor the angel. Strangely, that calmed her a bit.

Dean faltered slightly, marvelling at how she now used his nickname for Castiel, he had not heard her do that before. "Outside," He informed her, of course they would not be far away. Elena raised a brow in question, he understood. "They're waiting for us. I wanted to talk first. Just you and me."

She was confused, what could he possibly want to speak to her about away from the boys? "Okay… w-w-what's on your mind?" Elena was attempting to mirror his playful composure, but her nerves got in the way, tangling and tripping her words as they escaped.

Dean searched her face, "You ran." He prompted,

Elena hedged, avoiding his eye-line, "Funnily enough, I _remember_ that it." Shew threw up sarcasm when she did not want to answer, he was learning that quickly enough. He waited in silence for her to answer properly. "Ugh," She sighed, "Of course I did, I couldn't stand you all expecting me to be some kind of superhero and then having to watch you be disappointed when I failed. I ran." She finished lamely.

"Do you think that you'd have even been able to do that if I hadn't _left_ my keys for you? We both know you wouldn't have stolen another car." He was too intuitive for her liking. He did not argue about her failure though, she noticed.

"You knew I'd leave?" She knew by the honesty flowing through his features as he nodded that she was right, "Why didn't you stop me?"

He bowed his head, "Cas wanted to. He's pretty pissed right now." He admitted, "But I thought – with all… this – you needed some space. Some time to get your head together, right?" Dean sighed heavily, "I know I would have."

She said nothing. He was right and he knew it. He still held her wrist, only now it was not a restraint but a soft reassurance. His thumb stroked her skin absently and she was certain he was not even aware of his hold anymore. She was also surprised that Castiel had stayed away if he was angry, she gathered that he would be calculating just how to tell her off when she eventually faced him.

"Didn't expect you to be so far away though," He chuckled, "Did you even stop for gas?"

"Once," She admitted sheepishly, it had been a gas station half a block from where she lived – she had stopped there too to pick up some clothes and essentials, she knew she could not have stayed there with the others looking for her. The tank of the Impala probably did not have a single drop left in it by now.

He sniggered. "You're getting the next tank," He tease, then paused, "I didn't even know you could drive really."

"Me neither," She replied truthfully. Dean would probably have scolded her for putting Baby in danger but he stopped short when her face fell and lips pursed in annoyance. "Let's just add it to the list of things I don't know about myself." She added bitterly.

"So that's what this is about," He murmured quietly, "I know this must be hard, having two sets of memories and all-"

"It's not just that. Christ, I wish it was." She confessed, her chest heavy and her head still pounding as it had since her Grace was restored. Where did she even start? "I don't know anything about myself, I can't do anything I should be able to do and I don't know why you guys want me to help you when I just can't… I don't even know what name I'm supposed to respond to."

Dean appraised her, thoughtfully raking his eyes across her face, searching for an answer to give her. Some magic solution that would make everything better for this tiny, lost girl. He realised how terrifying it must be to suddenly not know a thing about yourself, only to be told things by strangers, he did not think he would cope with it nearly as well as she was.

She felt helpless and alone, how could she even try to fit in when she did not know herself? It was absurd to think that only a couple of days ago she had been an ordinary girl, working to save for college. She had pretty much given up any hope of making her interview on Monday now.

"How about…" He paused, suddenly unsure of himself, "Elle?" She seemed both confused and startled at his suggestion, he found it adorable. Not that he would tell her that, he thought with a smirk. He had used it earlier and she had not complained, so how bad a suggestion could it really be?

She considered it cautiously, testing the name in her mind. _Elle_, it was a derivative from both Tauriel and Elena she supposed. Not to mention that it sounded… _good_ when Dean said it; and he had taken it upon himself to think of it, it would be rude not to use it. "I- I like that," she told him, actually smiling genuinely for once.

He had a proud little grin on his face, as though no one else in the world have thought up such an ingenious solution. "See," He began, "I helped you fix that. I – we – can help fix the rest." He was genuine, she could tell that much, but she did not know how they could possibly help – she was unsure if she wanted help, it seemed to her like an admission of pathetic weakness.

She shrugged and became interested with the faux-wood pattern of the table to avoid the intensity his eyes had taken on.

Dean suddenly changed tack. "Do you remember the first thing I said to you down there?"

"'Nice rack,'" She quoted with an amused half-grimace, it had been the only time down in Hell she had actually felt close to laughter. He had even given her his trademark flirty wink that she had seen him give many girls in her year of watching over him. Typical Dean; even when tied to a rack waiting for his bones to be broken he was a flirt.

He chuckled, "Still one of my best," He muttered almost to himself, "But what did I say after that."

She thought for a moment, somehow things that involved him came better to her than other memories, ones she could not unlock. "You said things would be okay."

"I promised you." He corrected, "I promised you things would be okay. Let me try."

"But what if I never learn how to do this stuff?" She knew they would have no reason to keep her around once they figured out that she could not help them.

Dean gave an empathetic smile, his eyes open and candid, "I guess we'll have to look after you, I mean you did pack a bag. You can't go home yet." There was a playful honesty within him and she knew that whatever happened he would take care of her. Perhaps it was a guilt thing, or maybe it was just how Dean worked. He did look out for his brother in a fiercely protective way; after all, that is why he asked for her help the first time. She knew that if Dean promised to take care of someone, he would do his best to follow through no matter how hard it became. "You don't have to do this alone." He reminded her.

She realised she was beginning to like this guy far too much, even trust him too much. She did not know if she was naturally inclined to trust people easily, but by the way she was still wary of Sam she gathered that was not the case. Elle was still confused about how she felt toward Castiel; he had been an ally in Heaven, or so she had thought, and yet he had betrayed her and left her in Hell. She could not exactly trust him after that. She supposed she felt more warmly in respect to Dean seeing as he had actually tried to have a real conversation with her, though she had not really given the others a chance.

Dean pulled her up from the seat, taking her bag from her and shouldering it himself, she was slightly surprised by this suddenly chivalrous behaviour, but worked to keep it from her face, it might hurt his feelings if she told him she did not think him a gentleman. He even held the car door open for her when they got to the Impala. She sat in the backseat with Castiel, who gave her a poisonous look whilst Dean put her bag in the trunk, the angel was clearly furious with her.

"And where have you been, young lady?" Sam joked in a mock-fatherly voice, he was obviously trying to lighten the tense atmosphere of the car, and startlingly he gave her a conspiratorial smile.

She returned it, "Causing trouble as usual," She jested, ignoring Castiel's negative vibe.

"You deserted us." Castiel iced over the whole car with the frostiness in his tone.

Dean glanced back to Elle in the rear-view mirror, "Cas," He warned.

"No, Dean, this is not something we can put aside." Castiel growled out. "Tauriel must learn not to be so wilful."

"Well I see you've not lost your angel sensibilities completely." She spat out unthinkingly, she did not even know where that came from, but it sounded like something she would have said to him before Hell. It was like having an almost déjà vu moment, though she could not place it.

Castiel's mouth turned down at the corners, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set, "Sometimes it is better to be loyal than reckless."

"How can you talk about loyalty, Castiel?" She snapped icily.

The angel flinched at her words, evidently upset in a way he did not understand; Castiel had always done that, his emotions were usually a vague mixture of sadness and confusion. "Tauriel," He tried again, struggling with the restraint that usually came so easily.

"Don't call me that, Castiel." She ordered firmly, not bothering to look at him. Her eyes fixed upon the hood of the Impala.

He went again, his anger breaking through, his voice raising. "Elena, you need to grow-u-"

"Don't call me that either." She cut him off. "And don't presume to know me because you don't."

"Whether you like it or not… _child,_" He loaded the word negatively, "I know you better than you yourself right now so you _will _listen to me."

Everyone could tell that Castiel was a second from blowing, but Elle no longer cared, his presumptions were too much and she had a Hell of a comeback in mind, ready to spill from her tongue in a snap. Thankfully, she was interceded.

"Maye you should switch with Cas, Sam?" Dean suggested in an effort to mitigate the growing tension as far as he could, he was watching Elle closely in case her ferocity brought on another bout of her angel mojo as it had back at the motel.

Without a thought Sam was at the door of Castiel's side ushering him out of the car. The angel complied, but only so as to appease Dean. At this moment he agreed with Elle, she was just as pathetic as she believed, though he knew her not to be useless. She had to learn, he thought. He would make sure she worked every hour of the day if she had to, they needed her ready as soon as possible.

"She needs to be ready, Dean." Castiel seethed up front, still not having let it go. "If we fail; Myantion…"Elle zoned out.

_A marble floor, four marble walls and twelve marble pillars. All in white. Blinding white. They all dressed in the same shade of nothing, leaving her and the blood that stained her hands to be the only colour left in the room. Self-consciously she tried in vain to prevent any of it dripping to the floor, but it was utterly useless, she had left her mark in yet another way this night. Tauriel felt as though time had both frozen and sped up all at once, it seemed to take an eternity to get to the stand and yet it only took a second if that. Things distorted in her mind, but for the first time in a long time she felt the conviction that she had done the right thing. _

_They would not see it that way. They never did. _

_It did not surprise her to know that this event had brought nearly every angel in existence to bear witness. It was her trial, after all. The heat of their stares combined bubbled her skin, branding it with their unsaid insults; _abomination, monster, half-breed, freak._ They were all things they had always thought about her, those lucky enough to be whole angels, but now that she had done something unforgivable they had an excuse to say it aloud. Eyes like daggers tore into her skin with razor-sharp precision, they knew it cut her up when they lazily disregarded her form and ridiculed it, shredded her heart to see them all out of their vessels. She never knew which head of each one she was to keep track off. More than ever Tauriel wished she was only one or the other; angel or human. Things would be easier if there was no shade of grey inside her. Tauriel resented herself more than they ever could. _

_She could not meet their gazes and did not want to, she would lose her grip on her morals if she did. She had done nothing that anyone else would not, if they knew how it had all happed they would anyway. She could not tell them though, she knew how they would decide and she needed them to make the wrong decision so she could make things right. _

_"Tauriel," A booming voice announced, "You are brought here accused of murder." She knew who it was, who it was always going to be. The voice of judgement._

Vaguely Elle heard Dean arguing with Castiel about whether or not rock music was still valid after the seventies. Castiel had recently become a fan of something called 'Sleeping With Sirens'. Dean was vehemently asserting that they were far from rock, they sounded like a bunch of girls apparently, and if Elle were listening she would have made some sort of comment. But she was lost to them all.

_Tauriel was certain of her plan, it was the only thing she had. _

_"Yes," She answered, finally looking up at the angel in charge. He sat on a huge, overly-luxurious throne. _

_This was a court room, but there were no benches, no colour. The emptiness was designed to make angels want to confess their sins. For Tauriel, that would not work. Her only real 'sins' were the lies she was about to tell. _

_"You know what will happen if you plead guilty?" _

_"Of course, I am not at all ignorant of our rules." She had deliberately and cockily used the pronoun 'ours' to rile them, she was not one of them and never had been no matter how hard any one tried to pretend. _

_One of his animal heads, one she recognised as some long-extinct form of tiger, leered dangerously at her. "You incited rebellion and killed one of our brothers without provocation."_

_"Yes," She lied easily. A gasp rasped through the crowd and finally she spotted Castiel. He, of course, was aware of her plan; he had been the one to help her formulate it, he had begged her to let him in. And she had, on one condition: that he save her when the time came. He would, she was positive. _

_"Others have claimed lives in your name," And they will not be punished, she finished silently for him. He scowled contemptuously at her from his seat. "And you have taken a life yourself, an angel no less."_

_"I did," She agreed with no hint of regret, focussing on his latter point; at least her answer for that was no lie. She did not regret killing him. She did regret not letting anyone know why though._

_She waited. In heaven there was no jury, only a judge. Centuries ago that judge would have been God, but things changed. She was not sure if God had ever existed, he had never been in Heaven whilst she had lived. Something was wrong in Heaven, orders were questionable and angels were corrupt, she was aware of that much. _

_The smirk that twisted each of her judges ten faces sickened her to the core, he was genuinely happy. How could anyone be pleased at what he was about to do? "Tauriel," He paused, lavishing the moment, "I am… forced," The smirk turned into a grin of pure exultation, "Forced, to send you to Hell for the rest of eternity. Do you appeal?" _

_Of course she did not. "Absolutely not," She gave him a pleasant smile and supressed the intense fear that gripped every atom of her being. She could feel Castiel's disapproving grimace branding itself into her back as she allowed herself to be dragged away. She did not struggle once, going willingly with the angels that would be given the glamourous honour of throwing her into the Pit. Not before they ripped out her Grace, of course. _

The Impala travelled on smoothly as more memories flooded through her and Elle could feel herself cringing when the worst of them came. The one she did not want to think about at all. What she did. What she had to do. She wished this memory would never come back to her. Sometimes wished just do not work in the slightest. At least, hers never did.

_"You should not have come here, Tauriel." He sneered. "If you are caught you will be cast out." _

_She did not move, did not so much as back away from him. They had met in the same alley where a meeting with Anna had sparked the flames of rebellion, only this time Tauriel was not flinching at car headlights. It would be for the best if she was caught anyhow now. "I know what you've been doing." She said flatly. _

_"And you have emerged from hiding to let me know that morsel of useless information, eh?" He examined her blank expression. "I thought not." He hid it well, but she unnerved him. There were rumours about this one. She was supposed to be important, though everyone tried to deny it. She had tainted blood, how special could she really be? He shook his head imperceptibly, she was just a child and an expendable one at that. _

_"You were selling them to demons." She pressed. _

_He laughed mockingly, "Pays better than souls." He was not sidestepping the facts, she was right and he would not stop selling them for anything in the universe. Selling them gave him the most unimaginable power. _

_Without so much as a wisp of sound, nor glint of reflective light he had drawn his blade. Tauriel had no chance to react when he snaked his free arm around her, holding her tightly by both arms so she could not wriggle free. He was strong. He pointed the tip of his blade right where at her throat, hovering where they both knew her Grace lay pulsing faster than her heart ever could. _

_The sharp point drew tiny droplets of scarlet from her skin. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you, sweetie?" He drawled in a heavy growl at her ear. "I might have to cut out the voice box as well." He put a gentle pressure upon the blade. _

_Tauriel could feel the tip sinking by millimetres into her neck, biting at her flesh slowly. "What would you do if I did?" She answered, trying to convey serenity and only just succeeding. _

_This seemed to amuse him, "I would say I could sell yours too," He leered, "But who would pay for a defective angel's Grace? You shouldn't have one anyway, only real angels deserve one." He was riling her and he knew it. "How much did you pay for yours, dearest?" _

_That did it, it was hers and no one could take that away from her whatever she may be. Tauriel kicked back, shattering his knee with unexpected strength. With her pinkie finger, she channelled a small portion of her power into pinning him to the alley wall. A frenzy overtook her and she would have been unable to stop it even if she had wanted to. _

_She took out her own angel blade and carved a sigil into the angel's cheek. His cries of pain and strings of blasphemous curses only served to spur her on. The sigil rendered him powerless and unable to flee from his vessel; he was bound until she gave him the only release she was going to gift him with. The dagger tore into his flesh again and once more he screamed, calling for help. The next thing to go was his vocal cords. With great care not to kill him out right, she cut a small incision in his neck and skilfully severed the vocal chords. Now his complaints were nothing more than a muffled gargle. He spat a clot of blood at her, hitting her on the forehead. _

_"Big mistake," She told him, some animal part of her in full control now, "This could have been over quickly." She told him in a sing-song kind of voice. She did not recognise this new side of her and it completely terrified her. More than anything else she could think of. She _enjoyed_ kicking his bones to dust, peeling away his skin, bursting his eyeballs. Nothing had felt so _right_ to her before. She told herself that it was only because she knew her was killing others to sell parts, because her had insulted her, because he had threatened to kill her himself; but she was not sure. Maybe this was the savage human side of her coming to light as they all whispered behind her back, they had seen this coming whilst she had not. _

_Clarity came over her and she hugged herself together, not from the chill, but in restraint. She had done what she knew she would, but she felt she had gone too far, been too brutal. Murder was one thing; mutilation was a whole other bucket of crazy. _

_His breathing came as barely a sound and she sat on the ground across the alley from him. Watching as the breaths slowed, as the light faded from his split pupils, as blood leaked away into dirty puddles on the ground. As he died. _

_It dawned on her that this was the first life she had ever taken. Others had slain demons and werewolves, even a couple of the most corrupted humans; she had not, she had never felt any inclination to do so. Killing an angel, however, was something almost unheard of and something severely punished and she hoped for the Mother of all punishments. She hoped for Hell. _

_Two hours it took for them to find her staring blankly at the body, blade abandoned on the floor. She would not need it now anyway. She was not going to fight anyone, not anymore. Resigned to her fate she went with them. She did not even complain when they bound her wrists and carved the same sigil as the one in her victim's cheek into the soft skin above her collar bone, she did not whimper, she did not flinch. She deserved this. At the back of her mind a voice responded, _so did he_. She would not tell _them _that though, they needed to still think him to be virtuous, to be a victim. _

_"What have you done?" One of them questioned in clear confusion. She supposed some people still thought her a good person despite the rebellious rumours and suspicions that surrounded her name these days. _

_"I did what I had to, Uriel, no more no less." Was her reply. And she would say no more on the matter. _

_She knew she would be sentenced for this; for the murder of Myantion. _

"Elle? Elle?" Sam was shaking her awake with timid gentleness that was thoroughly confusing for his size.

She blinked a few times to rid herself of the image of the blood stained walls of the alley, the dirty puddles and the shadow of angel wings on the floor. It was something difficult to remove from her mind. "Sorry," She mumbled groggily, "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Sam actually laughed, "You were awake more than two whole days," He spoke softly, leading her out of her sleepy haze gently, "I can let you off for a couple hours."

She shrugged, she could probably use a couple more but she dare not tell him that. It was only then that she realised she was no longer in the car, but in yet another Motel room. It was the same as any; none descript cream walls, neutrally patterned bed spreads adorning a double and two single beds and a lampshade that did not match the colour of anything else in the motel room. Someone must have carried her from the car. She also notice that she was placed on the double bed; Dean was sat cross-legged on the single to her right and Castiel was sat in a chair by the window, deliberately not glancing her way. He was definitely still furious with her.

Wait. If she was on the double, did that mean she had to share with someone? Uh, not happening. She would have to trade for a single. Maybe the brothers could share? Then she remembered what had bugged her before she left. Seeing Castiel sleeping had bewildered her endlessly. Angels did not sleep. How could she forget that? Another wave of uselessness crashed over her. If she could not remember something simple, she would never recall the complex things they needed from her. She pushed the thought aside, it would only make things worse to torture herself.

She felt a stab of uneasiness. She had the memory of murdering someone that was now alive and possibly hunting her. She understood Castiel's frustration, but he was unaware of what Elle had done to him. Castiel knew she had murdered someone, but none of the angels would know who. It is not much of a crime to kill someone Heaven was already trying to bring down, but they needed an excuse to get rid of her; from what she could remember, her rebellion was growing fast at that point, gaining momentum. If he was alive, then he had undergone what should have killed any angel. How had he survived?

Elle knew she ought to tell Dean and the others about her having already slaughtered Myantion once, but looking over at Dean's sloppy grin; she just could not bring herself to it.


	4. Pie

"Let's try zapping again." Sam was saying as he sat on one of the beds.

He had tried to send Cas to get some food so as to give Elle some time to train without his keen eyes criticising her every move, but he refused vehemently and demanded she keep going. Dean was in the shower having slept until noon, so that left Sam to coach Elle as best he could. At least she had not given up yet. They had been trying various things since five. In the morning. She hated every second.

"How can I do something when I don't know _how_ to do it?" She fumed, more for herself than anyone else. "I don't even really understand what you mean by 'zap'. Is it like picturing yourself there or something?" She had been appealing to Castiel like this for hours, without him saying anything more constructive than: 'it should be instinctual'. She needed something more than that.

This time, he actually thought about it for a moment. "No," He began slowly, "It is more a case of you _move_ to that place, but in a way that angels move, not like a human."

That little morsel of information was the most infuriating thing he could have said. At least he was not still ignoring the question entirely. How on Earth did angels move any differently from humans? It was a ridiculous thing to say, they did everything the same… except for one thing. Angels could fly. Perhaps that was it. Maybe she had been thinking about it all wrong. 'Zap' made it sound like some sort of trick, but if she were to fly, that would be a whole other situation. Finally the angel was starting to make a vague form of sense to her.

Cautiously, and with great concentration, she allowed her wings to unfurl, flexing them. They were far larger than she had thought. Elle almost leapt to save the lamp from falling from the desk in the corner when her wings grazed it, but instead of falling, the wing had travelled _through _it. No one had told her that her wings could do that, Castiel seemed to be forcing her to figure out everything by herself. She _felt_ the lamp, but her wings could not _move_ the lamp. This would probably give her a headache if she thought about it too much. So _that_ was what Castiel had meant when he said angel wings were semi-corporeal. This was going to be something to get used to.

Elle focussed on a spot just behind Sam and plunged in at the deep end. Her wings fluttered faster than her eyes could track them and she _moved_ or rather: she _flew_. The feeling was entirely exhilarating; the air did not have time to move out of her way and everything merged into one image, only when she concentrated on a blur did it become clear. She saw Sam. And over shot. Instead of landing behind Sam, she had somehow travelled through the door behind him. Into the bathroom.

Dean stared in an amusing mixture of horror, confusion and amazement as she appeared in front of him as if from nowhere, the same way Cas did all the time. Though, when Cas turned up, Dean was not usually naked, not most of the time anyway. Elle at least had the decency to look away, something that Cas had trouble learning to do. He preferred her turning up like this to Cas though, but that was something he knew would be a terrible idea to verbalise to anyone, least of all her; and not just because he would have to explain how many times Cas had turned up whilst Dean was indecent. Without a word, Elle was gone, the image of her blush imprinted in Dean's memory, just as the image of him in the nude would be imprinted in hers.

She was not sure if that was a good thing or not; it was not exactly an unpleasant sight, but she did not think he would appreciate her having seen it. Clearly she could still see the planes of his chest, the rippling arm muscles, and the deep 'v' shape that led down to… She made sure to stop that thought in its tracks.

She landed in front of Sam, magenta staining her cheeks. This time she had gotten to where she planned. Thoroughly embarrassed, she could not look anyone in the eye, especially when Dean emerged, wearing only his jeans.

"I-I'm s-so sorry, I mean, I really didn't mean to…" She mumbled in his general direction, much to the amusement of Sam who had to cover his mirth with a thoroughly unconvincing bout of coughing.

Dean was unfazed, acting as though it were a regular thing for a woman to materialise whenever he happened to be undressed. Thinking about it, it probably was for him. He was pulling her into a bear hug, his skin still slightly damp; he had not dried himself properly in his haste. "I said you could do it, didn't I?" He beamed, releasing her upon realising her jumper was getting wet. "But you could have just asked to see me naked," He teased, bringing on a deeper blush.

"That bit was _definitely_ an accident," She shot back with a sardonic smile, struggling to stifle a giggle.

"Definitely not," He muttered on a breath so low only Elle could have heard it. She elbowed him sharply and muffled another bout of laughter, knowing that it would be a long time before Dean forgot about this incident.

Sadly Castiel had no notion of being a mood-killer, "We need to try something harder." He scrunched up his face in concentration, "I need you to fetch me… croissants," She nodded, "From Paris," He finished. Castiel knew he was testing her, egging her on more than he should; but if that is what it took to get her to perform then he would do it, he did not stop to think whether it would upset her or not.

She had never been to Paris before… she supposed it could not be that hard to find. She took flight. It felt as though the Earth was spinning faster than light and she were staying still, then she saw it: The Eiffel tower. This was surreal, it just should not happen. One second she was in a motel just outside of Franklin, Tennessee, and in the same second she found herself in Paris. Castiel had been correct – though she was never going to inform him of that, he would only grow smug about it – flying came naturally to her, it was absolutely instinctual as he had said.

"Jesus!" Dean cursed when she touched down beside him, bumping him slightly as she landed a little too close, carrying an armful of the sweet pastries. He plucked one from her grasp, giving her a wink as he took a bite. Her stomach suddenly grew warm and unsettled, she did not like that much. He put a shirt on and that helped settle the feeling somewhat.

She dumped the rest on the table. "I had to steal them," She admitted, nervously chewing her lip. "I had no money." It was not something she had given any thought to before she had set off. The whole thing had taken seconds. She felt bad about it, but the shop had looked to be earning its fair share, she reasoned, wrestling with her guilty conscience.

"Don't worry about it," Sam dismissed cheerfully, him too taking a pastry. "We do it all the time, we have too." His voice sounded somewhat defensive, but unapologetic at the same time. "So, it's not that you can't do these things, you just need to work out _how_ they're done?"

She bobbed her head. "Yeah, I guess." She smiled a little sheepishly, "I wasn't too sure what exactly you expect

ed me to do when you said 'zap'." Seriously, if he had simply asked her to _fly_, to use her wings, the only thing she would have struggled with was knowing how to use them and that evidently would not have taken long to figure out.

Cas frowned, "We have no names for these things." He was definitely defensive, something that made his seem fierce. "Now try pinning one of us to the wall."

Was he not going to acknowledge that she had actually managed to do something? To her, the fact that she could travel wherever she wanted in less than a second was awesome, the thrill of flying was something indescribable and utterly breath-taking. If she would be allowed, she would fly everywhere she went, but she knew that would be forbidden so did not even bother asking.

Castiel was so unbelievable narrow minded, why could he not just be proud of her for a moment at least? She decided to give him what he wanted. She raised her arm toward him and flung a surge of power along it, aiming for the angel. He was thrown to the wall; his limbs were spread and he was unable to move a single muscle, he made the mistake of smirking.

"You can do better," He taunted, his eyes laughing at her in azure waves. He knew she could harness more power than that if she tried, just a flex of a finger could have him splattered against the wall if she so desired; though he hoped she would not try that on him.

She could, she knew she had before; had seen it in her memories. With the slightest twitch of her hand, she increased the pressure ten-fold. He could hardly breathe, the smirk was gone and he seemed to be growing wary of her, as though he had only just discovered a side to her he had never seen before. She knew she should stop now, let him down, but the way he had been treating her and the constant glaring disapproval he gave her lingered at the forefront of her mind and she wanted him to suffer just a little bit longer. He started gasping for air, the lungs of his vessel being crushed by the weight of her actions. She would see to it that he remembered just why he was teaching her these things, he said himself that she was more powerful than any angel and now she was starting to believe she could be. It appeared he was too, his expression turned to anxiety.

Dean watched in horror and awe; he was impressed by the strength she had shown – it was abundantly clear that she was going easy on Cas and still it was paining him – but he was also scared by what she could obviously do, it reminded him that she was not the tiny girl she looked, that she was not entirely human. It worried him that she could lose her temper and hurt people even though she probably never meant to. How long would it be before the first accidental kill? He shoved the thought aside, she would never kill anyone unless threatened, he was almost sure of that.

She felt a hand clasp her shoulder gently, "That's enough," Sam whispered carefully, "He shouldn't have been so hard on you, but you've got to let him down now."

He was right, she released the angel, letting him slither against the wall to the ground. He looked helpless as he struggled for breath for a few moments. She thought about apologising, but dismissed it, he would never have done that for her. Besides, he had asked for it really, in a way… If it would stop his constant taunting and irritation, it would be worth it.

"Faonts gemeganza," Castiel said, with a grimace of pain as he heaved himself standing.

She nodded, slightly ashamed of herself now he had told her _well done_, "Thank you." She answered.

"Ol om ollog?" He questioned, his eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Ol g-chis-ge ollor gassagen ol oiad ge-iad."

_You understand me? _He had asked, _you are an angel of the Lord,_ he had told her. "Noromi olani oai." _So I am,_ Elle replied. The language fell from her tongue in an accent that was second-nature to her, she did not have to think her response through – it just came to her, ready and waiting.

Both brothers were completely baffled and stunned. Dean cracked first. "What are you two babbling about?" He seemed somewhat disappointed not to be included in the conversation, like he was missing out on a game at the best party in the world.

Elle chuckled, "Well, apparently I can understand Enochian." She told him, stunned herself at the newfound skill. To her this was far more important that flying or using her power over others, it was something that proved without question that she had angel blood, that proved she was something important. "And speak it," She added on second thought.

"Does that mean you know Latin too?" Sam enquired, clearly thinking along the lines of Holy and sacred languages being seared into her brain. "Try an exorcism," He suggested, knowing that the only Latin he knew was orientated around that sort of thing.

She felt she should have needed to search her brain, but the words flowed smoothly without hesitation. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.

"Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te,  
>cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare<br>Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis,  
>Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili Nomini<br>quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.

"Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te ... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare.

"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos." The verses that would have torn out a demon and sent them to Hell spilled from her lips so naturally, she swore she could have said them a thousand times over, they were physically ingrained into her. Just like the words of the Bible, she realised she could recite the entire book backwards if she needed too, even the hidden and forgotten gospels and all those yet to be written. Her favourite would be the Winchester gospels, when they were finished anyway; perhaps she herself would feature in those, she knew Castiel had heavy cameos so far, but who knew if she would appear in them or indeed how they would end? The way things were looking, the angels in Heaven seemed to be trying to write her very existence out of everything, it shamed them to think God would allow an abomination like her to exist.

Sam had a confident grin on his face as though he knew she would be able to recite the exorcism easily, Dean on the other hand was staring in awe at her like he had only just realised that being half-angel would have its perks. He turned away, his brows low and unsettled, Elle wondered what she could have done to upset him, should he not be glad that things looked like they actually stood a chance. Still, it seemed as though she had done something awful to him without realising; even if she were not his Guardian, she felt as though she would do anything to avoid seeing him troubled.

Elle had an idea of something that could not fail to cheer him up. "Anyone down for pie?" She asked. Without waiting around for an answer she tried something she would never have dreamed she would be able to do, a couple of days ago she was working in a diner and thought the most important thing in the world was a college interview. That was three days away and by now she was certain that she would not make it; she did not even think she wanted to anymore.

She took in the shocked expressions of the boys as her idea came into fruition. They were stood outside the place she remembered from watching Dean all those years ago.

_Sam dragged his feet, scrapping his shoes along the pavement and leaving long black scuffs in his wake. "Do we really have to go here again?" _

_"Of course, Sammy," Dean smirked opening the door cheerfully, languishing in the scent of pastry, "Pie is love; pie is life." Tauriel followed unseen, smiling at the brothers; they were closer than ever right now and that made her happy beyond reason. _

_Sam rolled his eyes, "What's wrong with a salad bar every now and then, Dean?" He complained as they sat across from one another in a bright red booth. _

_The oldest brother flinched at the word 'salad', "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, dude." _

_Tauriel had to keep from laughing, she was still wary that he would if she made the slightest noise, though that was an impossibility. She had been tailing the brothers after a run-in with a nest of vampires where Dean had sent a silent prayer for help without realising he had. It turned out she did not need to do anything, they had everything under control. That was not the first time that had happened, she thought; remembering the time when he had been… entertaining a Lady friend and his call had summoned her; that happened a lot and each time she made sure to leave as swiftly as humanly – angel-y – possible, especially those times when there were no women present at all. She could never comprehend just why she was always so upset and angry about finding him like that with women, it was a part of human nature; unescapable. Either way, she spent the rest of the night crying that first time with no idea as to why. _

_Dean ordered his pie with a beaming grin like a child at Christmas, it was adorable when he got that look on his face; it made her forget that he was a hunter, just for a little while. "I'll always love this place," He told his brother. _

_They went to that same diner a lot that year, before Dean went away, and Tauriel had made sure she was there each time. It was one of the few times the Winchester brothers were genuinely happy together through that year. _

Instantly Sam recognised the colourful booths and sunshine walls of Dean's favourite diner. The one that Dean always said had the best apple pie on the planet. He thought it should have surprised him to find that she would remember this and not that she understood Enochian, but he also knew she was Dean's Guardian; she probably knew more about him than she did herself right now. Sam mused that it would be quite sad if that were the case and wondered if she maybe resented Dean for it, he shook the idea away; she had shown nothing but care for his brother and doubted she were even capable of ill feeling toward Dean. He almost sighed, knowing he would have to order pie to keep his brother happy. Sam was also impressed that she had managed to get them all to the right place first time.

Dean startled, glancing around furtively as though he thought this were a trap. He knew, of course, exactly where they were; he would have recognised it by scent alone and instinctively his stomach made a growl of interest. He startled once again to hear Elle laughing, presumably at his bewildered expression, and could not help but fall into an easy smile. She had done this for him, there could be no doubt, and for that he was grateful even if it was just another reminder that she was not all human; that she was not the fragile little girl she seemed, that she would not need him to protect her if it came to it.

"Everything okay?" Elle had noticed his face curl into the same concentrated disdain as before, she had tried to do something nice for him after all. She would have to ask him about it later, maybe when they were alone.

It confused him to see her chewing her lip nervously; looking for approval in this gesture. He beamed genuinely, "Yeah, everything's great," It was not quite a lie, not really, "Thanks," He gave her an awkward one-armed hug which made her blush profusely. He did not think she knew just how endearing that shade of pink was when she wore it.

Dean pulled her into the same red booth as the one he and Sam had sat in when Elle first tagged along when she was an angel before. It was the booth they always sat in, next to the door just in case. Sam slid in opposite Dean, Castiel reluctantly followed; glaring heatedly at Elle. She wondered if he was still sore from being pinned to the wall; perhaps that was why he was being so cold toward her.

Dean ordered the apple pie for all of them, "If you don't _love_ it, you're not human…" He faltered, "Or angel, I guess," He fixed quickly, peering at Elle to see if he had hurt her.

She chuckled appreciating his effort, she had not even realised what he had said until he corrected it and she was certain he had not done it for Castiel's benefit, "How can anyone not love pie?" It was her favourite, but she had the nous to know that was probably down to him, she had never even had any sort of pie before she had been assigned to him.

"We do not have time for this, Dean." Castiel interrupted, bursting the bubble of contentment that encased Elle and the brothers.

Dean heaved a tired sigh, "Myantion doesn't know we're here." Absently, the eldest brother began tracing angel warding sigils in ketchup on napkins, demon ones too, just in case. They would work for now. No angel nor demon could not go to them now unless they already knew where they were.

"He will," Castiel asserted, ignoring Dean's efforts. His eyes were still fixed on Elle.

Elle rolled her eyes. "Well it's nothing I haven't handled before," She blurted without thinking.

Castiel did not appear surprised, he had figured it out from her words when he told her they needed her help.

_"We have to gank Myantion." Dean was saying. _

_Elena froze. "I know that name…"_

_"And he knows you," Castiel had told her. _

_Ah, she remembered him. "Then we're all screwed." _

_Castiel seemed mildly surprised. "You know of him?" _

_"You could say that." She responded with a wan smile. So the rumours were true, she had been the one to kill him the first time around. He would no doubt be banging for her blood. "He knows I'm out, doesn't he?" He probably does, he thought to himself. Her mistake, Castiel thought, was leaving Myantion's Grace intact. God he missed the days of the apocalypse, of Leviathans; things were simpler back then. _

Castiel cleared his throat, "It appears you were not _thorough_ enough," Elle immediately knew that Castiel was aware of the exact details of what she had done to their fellow angel, she wondered idly if he thought any less of her for it, then decided she did not care; Castiel had been nothing but infuriating toward her since her restoration.

Sam and Dean, however, were a tad more shocked. Sam was opening and closing his mouth, trying to search for words to say to this revelation.

"You killed him?" Dean whispered incredulously.

Elle shrank away. "I had to do something that would be unforgivable, the get me sent to Hell… Myantion was already breaking a thousand angelic laws and killing angels himself… I doubt he would have been sent to Hell if he had been caught though." She frowned, she regretted not telling them now.

Dean shook his head, "No, Cas told us what you did for me… that way, but he didn't tell us Myantion had already friggin' died before." Strangely, he was not mad, he was more frustrated that she had not mentioned it until now. Frustrated that now the chances of ganking this guy seemed even slimmer. "Why didn't you say anything?" He implored her.

Elle turned her gaze outside the window, she really did not want to have this conversation here… or anywhere to be fair. "I didn't want you giving up." She replied honestly.

Dean understood. It was something Sam would have done; made sure Dean did not throw in the towel even if that meant keeping information from him. Elle and Sammy were very similar, they both relied on Dean's strength to keep them from giving in, and he knew that. "You should have told us." His expression transformed; eyes growing stormy, lips thin, brows furrowed. She knew it well.

"I know," She shrugged, unable to look his way, "I just didn't want to have to see that face."

"What face?" He asked confusedly, he had not been aware he was pulling any sort of face.

Elle sighed, "The one you make when you think there's no hope left."

"That's not a thing." Dean dismissed, making sure to plaster a smug grin in place of the expression he knew she meant.

"Is so," She spat childishly, poking out her tongue for good measure.

Dean genuinely chuckled, "It's not something you need to worry about."

"She will though, Dean, it's her job." Castiel interceded, his tone gentler than it had been. He had not wanted to be as harsh as it seemed, but it was necessary.

Dean considered this for a moment. Her job. Did that mean that anything she remembered or did for him was purely a part of what she was supposed to do? He had thought that perhaps she actually cared about him in some small way, but that probably was not the case; she was an angel anyway so what did it matter? Half-angel, he reminded himself.

"You say that like I have no choice." She complained petulantly. Her _job_ was to give him help or signs only when he asked for it, but it was undeniable that she had done things Heaven would surely deem… unnecessary, bringing them to this diner on a whim to cheer him up would have been one of them.

"You don't… For most things." He allowed appreciating that all of her actions since reinsertion had been more than what warranted the influence of a Guardian's compulsion. Things he was not convinced she was aware of; like how she gravitated toward him physically or how she studied his expressions so carefully as to identify just what he would be thinking.

Both angels were positive that she would worry about Dean whether or not he was her charge, she could not help but do so.

No one spoke, but to say a polite 'thank you', as the waitress brought them each their slices of pie. Dean could not resist digging in, despite the tension. Sam followed his lead, finding nothing useful to add to the disaster that had been their conversation, and Castiel ate despite his vessel not requiring any sustenance.

Elle prodded her slice with her fork a couple of times and stood up, "I'm going to the washroom," She muttered and raced to the girl's room before any of the men could stop her.

The second she hit the stalls she threw up, she felt a horrible churning within her. She realised she hated being angry at Castiel, but he could be so infuriating sometimes, she was confident that this was a familiar way she would feel about the angel. He had evidently been the same obstinate character when she was acquainted with him previously.

Once she had finished, she washed her face in the sink, feeling much better and more clear-headed as the freezing cold water washed away her dizzy spell and vanquished the majority of her frustrations if only for a few moments. A knock sounded and she tensed.

"Elle, you okay?" It was Dean. Who else?

Quickly she patted her face dry and emerged before Dean could get concerned enough to come in. He wore a countenance she had witnessed many times over, but never over anyone but…

"Save that look for Sam," She joked half-heartedly.

Dean gave her a questioning brow before he understood. She meant the way his face twisted up when he was worried about someone and the person he was usually anxious about was his little Sammy. He recognised that it was a strange thing for him to be like that about people outside of his family. He chuckled lightly as they casually left the diner, Sam and Castiel were nowhere in sight. "Why shouldn't I use this face with you?" He did not even deny the concern carved into his features.

She froze, that was unexpected. "I guess because you don't really know me," She mused, more to herself than to him, "And I kind of kept that bombshell from you." _And I'm not your type_, she almost finished. The only people Dean genuinely cared about were either: practically family or they were lovers and that was only a select few lovers. And she was neither.

"Sammy's kept things from me before," He confided, though he had a distinct feeling that she already knew about that.

She shrugged, it was different. "He's your brother, Dean_, family._" Family was the most important thing in Dean's life, he would most likely forgive Sam for anything in the world.

"So?" Dean dismissed, "And you're wrong." He asserted confidently.

Elle tilted her head like a confused puppy, the sort of action that made Dean's insides feel questionably_ right_, "I usually am," She mocked, "But what about this time?"

"I do know you," He affirmed confidently, "Better than you think."

Elle blanched, he did not know her; she did not know herself right now, so how could he? "You've been watching way too many chick flicks," She mocked, trying to avoid the intensity the conversation had taken on.

Dean almost flinched, obviously she had watched him closely as a Guardian. "Of course you would know about that." He muttered sarcastically, realising that she would say no more on their previous topic. "If you ever tell Sam, I'll kill you."

To onlookers this would be seen as a playful joke between friends, but Elle knew that if Sam found out how many romantic comedies and soppy dramas Dean indulged himself in, there would be no end to the torment and so Dean's only option would be to murder the one who had betrayed him in such a heart-breaking way.

"Oh," He began rummaging in his pocket, trying to get something out that plainly should not fit without squashing it. "You left your pie,"

He handed her the slice wrapped in napkins. "Thanks," She thought he might have taken advantage and eaten the thing himself, he would have with Sam's if he ever got the opportunity.

She unwrapped it and took a bite. Dean was right; this was the best pie on the planet. Why had she never eaten it on her visits before? She knew the answer, she would have been seen if she had and that was the one rule a Guardian was not supposed to break. She remembered that now. Her standing with Dean now in plain sight was strictly forbidden. So why was she still there? It was easy; Heaven sent her to Hell, her rebellion would be to interact with her charge without hiding, or that was what she told herself it was anyhow. She finished her pie in no time, silently wishing she could go back inside and get some more.

"I take it I'm your ride home?" She enquired, then halted abruptly, recognising how the phrase could be taken and flushing. She hoped he had not noticed, but she saw the light catch in his eye, she had seen it often when he… encountered… various women.

Dean smirked, "I guess so," The gleam remained mixed with the green of his scrutiny, "Unless you want to stay awhile…" He trailed off, his voice thick with insinuation.

She shoved him impishly, "And have Cas murder me for 'wasting time'?" She giggled, "Maybe next time."

She did not give herself time to ponder the meaning of his suddenly optimistic grin before taking flight and landing firmly back in the motel room in Franklin. Elle realised they were stood close together and made sure to wander over to the chair beside the desk to sit down so as to rid herself of the uncomfortable familiarity that came with his presence. Dean did not notice, he was too busy replaying her last words in his head over and over. Would there really be a next time? Did he want there to be? He wanted to give a firm no, she was half-angel and about ten years younger than him; but at the same time he could not, he _really wanted_ to say yes, for some unfathomable reason he felt he would say yes to anything she wanted.

Sam, however, was more perceptive than either of them. He would have to speak with each of them, but he was certain that with Castiel around that would not be possible; the angel had all but climbed the walls when Sam suggested they leave Dean to collect Elle. Cas had wanted to storm the bathroom stalls almost the second she went in alone.

Cas was midsentence and decided to continue as though Elle and Dean had been there all along, "…once she is fully powered we need some way to find Myantion and then we make our plan…" He was saying.

"Why?" Elle questioned, only just having realised that she had not asked something vital. "Why do _you_ want to gank him?"

Castiel gawked in an extremely un-angelic manner. "How can you ask that?!" The angel was disbelieving.

Elle gave herself a mental shake to get her words together. "I know why he deserves to die from and angels' point of view and from mine," She deliberately made the two separate, "But what has he done to the humans to get them to notice him?"

Castiel looked as though he would not answer, so Sam did it for him. "He's building an army." He explained, "Or at least trying to, not many of them survive the process."

Elle stared blankly at Sam, not understanding a word he said. "What he's building an army of demons?" She guessed, it was the only plausible thing. Maybe he was even putting those stolen angel Graces into some demons, surely that would make them at least twice as strong and three times as dangerous? If he still had any Grace at all. She remembered that was what he had been trying to do when she killed him the first time.

"No," Castiel told her, "That is not his plan at all. He's building an army of the strongest being he has ever known."

_And what the Hell could that be?_ She thought. Did that mean the demons with angel grace were discarded? Killed? Somehow she did not think so. That would be too clean, too simple and that was not the way Myantion ever played his hand. He liked the chaos of a plan that never really came into fruition, he liked to leave a mess in his wake.

"Then- then what is he…? What is he building an army of?" She could not decipher what the strongest being Myantion had ever crossed could be.

This time it was Dean who answered her, "He's building an army of you," He confessed, gazing carefully into her stormy eyes; wishing none of this was happening more than ever so as he could stop her from feeling the guilt of not succeeding in Myantion's demise that was written plainly across her face. He continued. "Myantion is making half-angels, because he couldn't take down the first. Because he couldn't ice _you_."


	5. Trapped

"So he's _making_ more Nephilim?" Elle clarified, helping herself to a glass of Dean's whiskey knowing he would probably let her off this time – she made a mental note to replace it as soon as she could, but right now her need was greater than his. She did not even care that it was only three in the afternoon, the bottle was full and so was her head.

"Don't call yourself that." Castiel growled harshly, "It is not… polite." He struggled to think of an adequate reason, Nephilim was an angelic term and only ever used amongst them as a derogative.

"What should I use instead?" She spat angrily, "Abomination? Monster? They are the only real words anyone had for me, Cas." She stared down at her shoes, deflated, and poured a little more alcohol. "There's no point pretending any different."

"You are not any of those things." Castiel argued quietly.

Elle threw her hands up, careful not to spill her drink, "The blood of an angel should not mix with the blood of a mortal, Castiel." She knew what The Book said about such things, the angels could never let her forget it. "I know what I am, Cas," She told him in a small voice, "I should not exist and neither should this 'army'. You and I both know that."

Wow. Sam thought, she hates herself even more than Dean and for the same sort of non-reasons. And she could drink like Dean too, she was downing her third helping and going back for more. "There's a name for it?" Sam blurted.

Elle laughed mirthlessly, "There's a name for every monster," She replied darkly.

"You are not a monster," Dean asserted, coming to the side of her chair, the worried face she had come to associate with his concerns for Sam sliding into place again – it almost felt as though he cared about her. "You're just not, okay." He left no room for argument, taking the bottle from her and pulling a long, slow swig.

"That's not what we – they – are taught, the angels," Elle began, correcting herself; she was never truly one of the angels, "What is it they say, Cas? Those who used to mutter behind my back?" She feigned a mocking confusion, "Oh yeah, that's right. They said I was 'a filth that needed to be purged from the Heavens'." She quoted them bitterly, feeling like her insides were souring at the memory, "Looks like they got their wishes after all."

"Tau- Elle, that was never the case," Castiel tried.

"Maybe not for you, and Anna too I guess, but everyone else up there? They wanted me gone and you know it." She countered, "I am Nephilim and there's nothing I can do to change that, but I am not how they say a Nephilim should be. Or at least… I hope not." She stared out the window in confusion.

Dean leaned his elbow on the arm of her chair, "What should you be like?" He was genuinely curious.

"The Symmachus translate Nephilim as 'the violent ones' and others interpret it to mean 'the fallen ones'," Elle said in monotone, then laughed derisively, "I guess I kind of fit those," She thought back to the frenzy of violence that was her downfall. The liquor was doing its job well, the warmth of it helped rid some of the twisting knots in her stomach. She drained her glass, trying to quell the feeling completely.

Dean was about to ask what she meant by that when Sam interrupted him, catching a piece of information he had missed. "I thought Cas said you were the first,"

Castiel answered quicker than Elle could open her mouth. "Both the first of her kind and the first to be allowed into Heaven." It was unspoken that she should not have been.

Sam blinked in bewilderment, "Then how come there is… I don't know… lore about them?" Should a thing not exist before people decided things about them?

"Because they were forbidden by God," Castiel explained, "God said that angels should not lie with humans and that if they did the angel would be cast out and the offspring would be… tainted. God wrote the lore as a warning."

Sam mumbled something about going to the library to see if he could find any books on Nephilim, he wanted to do something useful instead of staying in the tense motel room.

"It is not your fault, Elle," Castiel tried, "You cannot help it,"

"Elle is not tainted." Dean growled, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

Sam paused at the door, "Cas, with me." The angel looked about to argue, "Now." Sam ordered, knowing that if Castiel stayed Dean would most likely punch the oblivious angel and hurt himself. Again. This time Castiel complied without complaint.

Dean was acutely aware of being alone with Elle, he did not quite understand why this made him a little nervous, though it did not take the edge off of his anger. He poured Elle another serving then took another great gulp. "You're not." He asserted in her general direction, "Not tainted, I mean. There's nothing wrong with you." Even he was not sure why he felt so strongly, nor did he understand his need to reinforce the notion of her not being something horrible.

Elle wished she were less able to handle alcohol; apart from the warm glow in her middle she felt nothing, no fuzzy head nor nausea, she could almost be sober. "You didn't see it, Dean." She whispered barely audibly. "I am exactly what they say, you might as well know it. I've killed, Dean."

"I know," He nodded, giving her a look that clearly said he did not care, "You killed one bastard – I've killed hundreds, maybe even thousands." He threw his arms about himself in a gesture of finality.

"You didn't see me," She repeated, seeing once more in her mind's eye how easily she cut through Myantion's flesh and shred his body to useless pieces, hearing his agonised wails and curses. There was no real reason for going as far as she did, but she did, a simple stab would have sufficed but somehow that would not have been enough.

Dean let out a frustrated grunt, "He deserved it. One kill and the guy _deserved_ it." He tried to convince her, "That doesn't mean you're a monster."

"Maybe not," She half-agreed, "But the fact I enjoyed it might." She looked up at Dean, knowing he would have no answer to that, she needed to confess to someone the thoughts that troubled her terribly. "I relished the way the skin split almost before my blade touched it, I was fascinated by how the gooey fluid flowed from his eyes as I slit his pupils. I _destroyed_ him and I _liked_ it." She hoped to disgust him as much as she already did herself.

Dean shook his head, he could not fit her words with the picture of her performing those actions; there was just something off about it, he knew she had done those things, but he could not imagine it. "It's okay," He soothed softly, "That doesn't mean there's anything-"

Elle swallowed her drink, wiping the corner of her mouth as a drop escaped. "Dean, I'm _scared_."

"Shh," He cooed, he settled an arm about her shoulders in a gesture of comfort, "Sweetheart, we ain't gonna let anyone hurt you." He promised, she looked so small and innocent he could not imagine why anyone would want to harm her in the first place.

"No, you don't get it," She shook her head, pulling away, still not meeting his eyes, "I liked it _too much_, if I have to do it again… why do you think I refused to get off the rack. I was scared of who I would turn into. I've seen it Dean and I don't want to _do_ that again. I don't want to _be_ that." Elle could not imagine telling Sam or Castiel about this, they would probably judge her harshly if they found out. She felt as though she would break down into tears any second.

He drew her close once more, this time with both arms, she did not move away, but she was too self-conscious to replicate his actions. "Baby girl, ain't no one gonna force you, but we do need you to help us." He hoped she had not noticed the affectionate name that had slipped all too easily from his tongue. "It's gonna be tough, but we won't let you do it on your own."

"You and Sam can't fight them, Dean." She choked out, crippled by the onslaught of images varying from Dean being ripped apart by some half-angel menace and Sam being strung up beside his brother. She did not think she would be able to cope if either of them died; especially Dean, but he was her charge so of course she should worry about him the most. "They're part-angel, they could kill you as easily as Cas could."_ So could I_, she finished silently in her head, he did not need to hear that. She wanted to remind him that angels were stupendously dangerous even if she refused to have him remember that the same could be said about her.

"That's never stopped us before," He dismissed with a reflective chuckle, "We can take care of ourselves." He was right in a way; they could, but against Nephilim? Against angels? She was not sure. Humans were fragile. She sank the remaining whiskey from her glass in a business-like manner.

If Dean was serious about his involvement in this, she needed to know what they were up against as far as possible. "How many?" Gently she disentangled herself from him, not wanting to hurt his feelings. He kept his arm on the back of her chair anyway.

"Six of them survived so far," Relieved that the moment of tears had not come, he hated seeing people crying, especially people who did not deserve to be sad, especially people he cared about. Elle was under both of those categories to him.

"Out of?" She remembered what Castiel had said about not many of them surviving.

Dean sighed. She was not going to like the answer. "Six hundred or so."

She restrained a gasp, she would have thought to mortality rate to be a little lower than that. Elle remained calm, not letting anything get away from her, this was something she had to know. "How is he doing it?" It was obvious Myantion was not using the… traditional ways of breeding Nephilim.

There was a moment of silence and Elle thought Dean was not going to answer her, it must have been a difficult one to give because he finished the rest of the bottle in preparation. "The only way to do it without… you know, is to drain the blood of a human and replace it with an angels. He's giving them small pieces of Graces so they have more power than just what is in the blood."

"He knows someone brought you back, but as far as he knows your Grace was destroyed as it was supposed to be." Castiel informed her from the door way. How long had he been there? Sam was peering over his shoulder, an apologetic grimace plastered to his face as he caught Elle's eye.

Elle gave the sort of confused look that you would expect from a puppy, Dean reflected that he would probably find that unbelievably cute if he were not forcing himself not to notice little things like that about her. It would only lead to dangerous territory. He decided it would be best if he moved to lean against the opposite wall. Elle took note of this sudden withdrawal, but made no comment on it; there would be time for that later.

"How come I have my Grace now then," She asked, "If it was to be broken?"

"I kept it for you," Castiel answered as though it were obvious. He and Sam moved into the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

She still did not really compute, she knew now after a vague briefing of everything that had happened since she had been gone – courtesy of Sam – that Castiel had gone against orders and rebelled for Dean, but she could not imagine him doing the same for her. She was not important enough. "But why?"

"I thought you might need it when you came back, alas it was not me that raised you but…" Castiel trailed off, for the first time since they had been reunited he actually seemed guilty for leaving her behind.

_Something big was happening, Tauriel could tell that much in the small part of her mind that was not consumed by pain. It was in that small compartment that she retreated to, mentally, whilst Dean was doing as Alastair had taught him to do best. The agony was one thing, but seeing his face twist into a cruel smirk – the same as his teacher's – that was a torture unto itself, it did not suit him and she wished every time she opened her eyes never to see it again. _

_Today though, Dean paused. Something was going on. Alastair had gone from his watch post and demons were running everywhere; leaving their victims on the racks and fleeing. There, she saw them. The angels. Her brothers and sisters. They were fighting and clawing their way toward her rack. _

_Dean stood frozen, not knowing what he was supposed to do. She could see the conflict in his mind; if he ran or fought these people would probably slaughter him as they were anyone else that got in their way, but if he stayed they might just do that for the hell of it anyway. If it were not for these irons holding her in place she would have joined the proverbial party in a heartbeat. She saw him in the fray. Castiel; he had come through on his promise, his final words to her. _He would get her out_. The angel held up one of his hands, bringing it to his face. Castiel met her gaze, his face unreadable, and snapped his fingers together; the harsh sound cut through even the noise of the massacre. _

_Tauriel startled when Dean suddenly pitched forward. The mortal fell to the ground unconscious. That was not supposed to happen. _

_"Castiel!" She shrieked, her voice cracking from disuse. "Castiel, what is this? This was not the plan!"_

_Castiel did not look at her, he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and she knew what he was about to do; something he had never done before. He was about to break a promise – not just any promise, a promise to her. _

_Tauriel felt the weight drop over her stomach; she recognised then that the pain of betrayal was a far worse experience than anything else they could ever do to her down here. Her insides twisted and squirmed as she willed Castiel to at least take notice of her, his ignoring her made the whole thing that bit worse for her. His refusal to acknowledge her after he had taken things down a different route than planned tore her up with more than any knife could. It was damn right rude and definitely unlike Castiel. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, and she wanted to break something or someone. She was distraught and furious all at once. _

_"Castiel," Her broken voice implored, "Please," _

_His blue rays met hers, they sparkled slightly but she was sure that was just the flame light. "I can't," He gritted out, his jaw set. "I'm sorry."_

_Just like that he was gone; Dean with him. He had left Tauriel alone in Hell with no chance of leaving._

She sat pensively, pondering the newest question; one that she had not even thought about until this second. "Who got me out of there?" She had not meant to verbalise it, but it was out there now, no taking it back. She supposed a part of her must have assumed it had been Castiel, but he had said himself that he had not raised her.

Sam slung his library books onto one of the beds, "We don't know, but we mean to find out." He opened up his laptop and began typing away.

The angel had a glimmer in his eyes that she did not like, it suggested they were planning something that would not be to her approval. "We need to stop Myantion before the angels find you." Castiel announced.

"I don't understand." Elle's brows met together.

Castiel frowned. "The angels have got a price on the head of every Nephilim out there. They're going to kill each one he makes. And you… if they can find you. Again."

Elle still seemed confused. "You were seen," Dean elucidated, "An angel saw you running the other day." They had spied her leaving her apartment and having observed the Impala they would not doubt have guessed who had returned her angelic state.

"So… what?" She did not know herself whether she meant what is going to happen? Or what were they going to do?"

"So you're on lockdown." Dean put forward.

"No." Elle refused, she could tell by Sam's burying himself in his research that he had known this conversation was coming and that somehow made it that little but more frustrating. Maybe that was what they had been whisper-arguing about last night, she had thought that to have been a dream.

"No?" Dean rose an incredulous brow. "Did you not hear, Cas? They will kill you if they find you." He could not comprehend why she would think it unreasonable, they were only trying to keep her safe. He needed her to be safe.

"What the hell do you think you've been jogging my memory for?" Had they not been trying to get her to remember how to fight? She could do it, she believed she could take an angel should she need to. "You said you needed me!" She said accusingly.

"We do," Dean confirmed, "But we have to keep you safe up until the last minute." _And longer if I have anything to do with it_, he finished in his head. If she died, he would never forgive himself, nor would he let whatever son of a bitch was responsible get away with it.

"I promise I won't run again," Elle meant it with every fibre of her body.

Dean's expression grew conflicted and troubled, "I know, darlin'. We can't take the chance of you being seen though."

Elle blinked, "I'll stay in the motel then," She offered, each of them knowing she would hold to it even if it meant she would be climbing the walls with boredom half the time.

Castiel interceded, fully aware of how close to folding Dean was. He thought to himself that Dean was already far too invested in this girl than was usual for him. "No, I will not allow it." He refused. "We will keep you in one place until you are needed."

It sounded extremely harsh; she would only be free once she could be useful. The thought enraged her. "You can't keep me here." She wanted to sound certain, but her voice wavered a little bit toward the end.

"Not here," Castiel amended and for a moment Elle was relieved. It was a short lived relief.

Without a word they were thousands of miles from the motel in Franklin. Castiel had taken them and all of their possessions to another location. One she did not recognise, she had never been here before. It was a dimly lit room that looked almost like a library, if it were not for the random assortment of guns and knives strung about at intervals. A long table, surrounded by chairs took the lead role in the room, books and notepads were littered all over the surface, pens sprinkled on top. Doors and corridors perforated the walls, leading off to God knows where. She walked further into the room to where a television stood in front of a soft red velvet sofa in the far corner to her right. This place was definitely unfamiliar to her even discounting her fuzzy angelic memory.

"Where are we?" She demanded of Dean, figuring he would be the only one who would answer her right now.

She was right, "Lebanon, Kansas."

"What is this place?" She wanted to sound angry, but it came out as more awe-stricken as she spotted ancient scrolls and artefacts on the shelves, this place must be a researcher's paradise.

"The Bat-cave," Dean answered reflexively trying to alleviate some of the tension as best he could, earning a shove from Sam.

"It's the Men of Letters bunker." The younger brother corrected.

She was not even going to bother asking what that meant. "And you're gonna keep me here how?"

Castiel's gaze flickered down for a second and she saw where she was stood. Painted in an almost unnoticeable shade of brown that almost blended in with the wooden flooring was the source of what would keep her here. Almost filling the span of her half room was a trap, not a Devil's trap, nor an angels; this one had been designed specifically for Nephilim. She recognised it instantly, angels had used it to keep her from getting into trouble when she was young, like a time-out spot or a naughty step. This time it was different, she had yet to do anything wrong.

"Elle," Dean attempted striding to her side, unsure of whether she would accept his comforting arm around the shoulder. The shrug he received told him she would not, "I'm sorry but we hav-"

"Shove it," She spat. She did not want their sympathy, nor their excuses. What good would they do for her, she was still stuck, trapped. She sank down onto the sofa, determined to ignore the lot of them. "And get out of my damn trap." She could not storm out, but she would make sure they understood they were not appreciated in her allocated space.

Dean placed something silvery beside her, but she had the restraint to keep her eyes fixed on the wall firmly away from Dean and the others. She could hear him walk away, the slam of a door let her know that he had gone to seek solace elsewhere. Vaguely she knew he was only doing what he thought was right to keep her safe and she appreciated it – she really did – but confining her when they all knew she was not going to bolt again infuriated her. Did they not trust her? Evidently not.

She decided she was not going to talk to anyone at all until someone broke the trap. Elle knew it was a childish decision, but it would make her feel better for a little while at least. It was like being a child all over again – she was twenty-three for God's sake. She was aware of the contradiction between that thought and her actions, but she did not care; she hoped they would feel guilty about this, though she was certain that their self-righteousness and belief that they were doing what was best would shield them from such a thing.

Eventually curiosity took over and she chanced a peep over at the remaining two men in the room. Sam had buried himself into his books, scribbling down notes every now and then and absently shaking is hair from his eyes every now and then; Castiel was watching her closely, scrutinising her every movement. She almost went back to staring at the wall, but the flash of something beside her won her attention away from the angel.

The device beside her was an iPod, since when did Dean have an iPod? Elle could only ever recall him having cassette tapes, had he gone straight from them to the iPod without even pausing on CDs? She peeked back up to Castiel, he looked as though he might start talking so without a second thought she plugged the earbuds in and pressed play if only to drown out whatever it was she could see the angel mouthing.

She smiled to find the first track to start – midway through, up to the part with all of the Lord of the Rings references – was her favourite, Ramble On by Led Zeppelin. Of course he would have put that on, it was what she had been humming in the Angel Fire. She was amazed to fine modern artists on this thing as well, she had thought he did not approve of any music past '89. Amongst the Metallica and AC-DC there were newer albums from bands like Nirvana, Foo Fighters, The Gaslight Anthem and, and surprisingly, Tonight Alive. He was coming into the 21st century at last. She wondered if this was a new thing for him. She recollected that when Sam bought an iPod years ago Dean had told his brother that they were ridiculous and would never catch on.

Elle laid back, her body not even managing to fill the whole of the sofa, it was easy enough to fall asleep surrounded by some of her favourite music and reclining on a sofa that she decided was not too bad. The worst thing she could do right now was to wake up and be reminded that this entire ordeal was indeed real. She imagined herself back in that diner working and listening to whatever crappy radio station was on and laughing with her co-workers and friends. She wondered what they would think had happened to her. Would they be out looking? Would they care? Her college interview was tomorrow and she was undoubtedly going to miss it, she was not even sure she wanted to make it any more – she had not told anyone about it.

…

"Garth? Yeah, yeah- we'll be there, Garth- okay- yeah. Bye." Dean slammed his phone shut. Elle was listening to them as they were not so quietly discussing and debating what their next course of action was, the first part of their plan having been to get Elle on side, they were deliberately leaving Elle out of it and she did her best to pretend she did not care. "That was Garth."

"No shit," Elle muttered under her breath, Sam heard and he had to fight to keep a smirk from making its home on his face. She thought Dean might have heard too as he rose a brow in her direction.

Sam piped up, "What'd he say, Dean?" He had distracted his older brother and right now Elle could have hugged him for it. Dean had been eyeing her as though she were going to murder him ever since he woke her up. Okay, she may have tried to punch him – but what else was she supposed to do when he roused her by pulling her earbuds out and shaking her awake, anyone would have done the same she had told him… to no success. He seemed to think it payback for their trapping her; but honestly, she had only been awake for two seconds and had not even remembered that little morsel – if she had the punch might have been more properly aimed and would not have merely grazed his chin as gently as it had. He obviously feared round two as he had sent Sam over to give her a meagre breakfast of a granola bar and some orange juice. Needless to say, she was not full.

Dean rubbed his jaw absently before replying to his younger brother. "Wants us to take a look at a possible sighting of Myantion. He's moved his recruitment over to Austen," Dean informed the group, stepping back almost unconsciously when he realised that his foot had travelled inside the edge of her trap. Elle had to stop herself from telling him it did not really matter if he stepped inside, but a voice in the back of her mind told her she needed Dean to think she was still livid with him and the others.

"So what's the plan?" Sam enquired, he had his reading glasses on and Elle could not remember if he needed them or if some girl had told him that he looked hot in them.

"I was thinking we could get ourselves recruited, stay a few days and figure out what he's up to," Dean grinned at his own plan, "He's looking for angel help too, Cas."

Elle blanched. "No." She forbid, making her eavesdropping known to everyone. "You can't do that." None of them could, did he not realise that would be a one way ticket to certain death in the best case scenario? And worse if things took a dangerous turn.

"Why not?" He shot back. He was grumpy, more than grumpy, he did not like being told 'no'. She should have known that by now.

She countered easily. "Same reason as you've trapped me in here; you could be killed."

He smirked cockily, he had done things he considered more dangerous than this many times before. "I like my chances."

"I liked mine." She snapped acidly. She was going to be just as stubborn as he, more so if she could manage it.

His eyes flashed, "You can't exactly stop us from in there." His face fell as his words tumbled out without his consent. He softened, "Sorry, I didn't mean it."

"You did." She told him. He was saying exactly what they were all thinking, she could do nothing within this trap; she could not even make the television flare and flicker as she could have easily in the motel. It was unbelievably annoying not to be able to do the things they had been trying so desperately to get her to remember to do. She could not see the point in it.

"How about we make a deal?" Dean suggested, surprising her by plonking himself on the far end of the sofa, still leaving a space longer than her arm could reach between them just in case. "One of us stays with you and we break the trap," He said the part that would interest her most first, hoping to persuade her without any bargaining, he would not be able to deny her much and he knew it. It had taken all his strength to leave her in that trap last night and he had woken two or three times with half a mind to free her. "But you have to promise to stay here and don't come to us unless one of us says otherwise."

She considered this. It was not a terrible idea, she was half-tempted to agree straight away; but the uncertainty in Dean's green eyes mingled with the nervous twitch he got in the right of his lip that only came out when he was desperate for an answer made her still herself teasingly. If she took the deal she could explore this place, but if she declined she would be stuck by the sofa. If she said yes she would have to keep to her word, if she said no Dean would be pissed.

He was studying her carefully as though he were trying to second guess her every thought process. "Before you say yes," He paused, knowing that his confidence that she would agree had to annoy her and relishing it. "I gotta know something," He licked his lips and the motion made her forget she was supposed to be furious with him. "If any one of us… prays to you, you can't help but answer, right?"

_Of course I have to_, she thought, _what part of Guardian does he not get? _"Yes," She replied too-quickly, "If I want to."

"She _has_ to answer if it is you, Dean." Castiel interrupted, ruining Elle's attempt at nonchalance. She had not wanted Dean to think she would be at his beck and call, though she obviously would be. His tone indicated that he would much rather not have Elle given the opportunity to leave at all, he deemed it too much of a risk.

Dean's face morphed into a comfortable smile, he was undeniably confident that she would not turn this idea of his down, though he thought Cas might be against this plan; that would only make her want to agree all the more. "So, basically two of us goes, one stays with you and you would stay here unless one of us prays to you," He clarified the terms once more.

Elle considered it again, peering to both Sam and Castiel who wore opposing expressions; Sam's spoke of approval and encouragement, whereas Castiel's held a don't-you-dare quality of scowl that made her absolutely sure saying 'yes' would be a sure fire way to make him royally enraged.

She knew she did not really have a choice, they would go whatever she said. "Fine, I'll do it, but I have my own condition," She paused for effect, almost losing her composure at Dean's wary frown. "You call me at the first sign of trouble. I don't want to get there for the final blows, you've got to give me at least a chance to save your arses."

Dean grinned as her English accent shone through particularly strongly; he made a mental note to get her to say the English equivalent of everything once all this was over. "Deal," He agreed sticking out a hand into the air between the two of them so they could shake on it.

Hesitantly, she took the proffered hand and shook it once before disentangling her fingers and signifying the affirmation of the deal before he could rescind it. "So which of you losers is stuck with me?" She asked playfully; half-hoping it would be Dean, but knowing he would not allow himself to be side-lined.

"Sammy is the loser," Dean told her, thankful that she was accepting this as something that was going to happen even though he could tell she was not happy about it in the least.

Sam made a face, "Hey, why do I have to stay?" He whined indignantly.

"Because we need Cas to scout out why angels are joining Myantion in his little crusade." He shrugged, _and because I'm not letting my little brother risk his life in this,_ he finished internally. Elle caught his gaze and he had the distinct feeling that she was as aware of his real reasoning as she would have been if he had declared it aloud. Again, he was struck by how well she seemed to know him without trying.

"Then why can't you stay?" Sam was complaining, he liked staying in one place as much as Elle did.

Dean shrugged, "I'm the only one she can't resist." He winked cockily.

Elle rose a defiant brow, "I can if I try," She shot back mischievously. Wait, was she flirting with him? Was he flirting with her? She could not tell and she hoped he was not sure either, though his knowing smirk fuelled with arrogance informed her that he most definitely was sure.

"No you cannot, Elle, it would pain you too much." Castiel disputed clinically. He had ruined her attempt at forgetting her situation. Of course she knew how much it hurt when a Guardian could not or would not reach their charge; it hurt like hell, worse than Hell even.

Dean shrugged, "She was joking, Cas," He gave her a silent sidelong question with those green orbs of his and she nodded as if to say 'of course'.

Castiel bobbed his head in comprehension, his glower flitting between the two of them suspiciously. Small fragments were falling into place in his mind and he had an idea of what things were to come, though he had no inkling as to how long it would take; they were both remarkably stubborn when they so desired.

"We should leave now, Dean." He reached for Dean's shoulder in preparation for their departure.

"We're driving," Dean insisted, shrugging off Castiel's touch.

"Not in the Impala," Elle stipulated to a disgruntled look from Dean. "What? It's a way for me to make sure you to come back." She paused darkly, "Or else I'm painting it pink and installing a CD player, maybe even reupholster the interior; who knows? Think of it as an incentive." Elle smiled brightly. She did not want to admit it, but she thought the one thing to make Dean go carefully – apart from Sammy – was to protect his car from any such defacement.

"That's not nearly the best incentive you could have offered," He trailed off lecherously, chancing to come in as close as he dared, a deliciously wicked grin playing about his lips, "There are a few… other things that might make me _desperate_ to come back."

Her stomach felt warmer than any whiskey had ever incited it to, it was not an entirely uncomfortable sensation. "Well then, maybe you shouldn't be too long about it." She purred; that as unusual for her, she was never normally like this. Her mind was almost as confused as when she first got her memories back, only it was not as uncomfortable.

She saw him shudder, the vibration flowing through the couch to her. She was surprised to find that she could have this sort of effect on him, on anyone really for that matter. He closed his eyes wistfully, then drew back suddenly. "Cas, do your thing." He gritted out, standing. "Let's get this over with."


	6. Sigil

It had been three days since Dean and Castiel had left and still Elle and Sam were yet to hear anything from them, she supposed that meant everything was going according to whatever plan Dean had contrived – she would maybe have felt better if she had known what exactly they had in mind for going into possibly the most dangerous place in the world right now.

Elle, now free from the confines of her trap – Sam had chipped away a section of the brown paint the moment Castiel had transported himself and Dean away – had taken to wandering the halls and corridors of the bunker with no real aim other than to distract herself from the absence. Everything felt warmer and lighter outside of her confines and she thought she may have been a little more claustrophobic than she was previously. In her explorations she had already found the dungeons (having found herself in another trap and having to ask Sam to help again – much to her embarrassment), the cars, a second library and – embarrassingly – Sam's own bedroom. That had not been fun, you would not wish to know what he had been doing when she had stumbled in; he could no longer look her in the eye and every time he accidentally caught her gaze he promptly turned his head, blushing furiously. Why he had been doing _that_ to cartoons she would never know; then again she remembered Dean having accidentally summoned her on more than one occasion whilst he was doing the same, only Dean had not known or seen Elle at that point. It struck her as odd that it had not happened since he was aware of her existence.

Since that incident with Sam she had vehemently decided to explore rooms much further away so as avoid a repeat of that experience. So far it had been a good idea. The opposite wing seemed to be a good starting point for today; besides, if she was going to stick around here for a while she needed her own bedroom instead of that battered old sofa.

It was on this adventure that she discovered a room whose owner she knew immediately, even though the occupant was not there. The room was awash with the scent of leather and gun cleaning oils; the walls were strewn with almost as much weaponry as the armoury (she had found that the day before); the bed was unmade, the sheets still tangled in the way their owner had slept on their last night together, and the laundry hamper was building an army of dirty clothes that spilled carelessly to the floor. Apart from that, the room was spotless; the desk was organised with everything at just the right angle to make everything easily accessible, even his shoes were lined up regimentally along the back wall. On the bedside table, propped against a reading lamp was something that – had she not already been sure of whose bedroom this was – would have given away the occupant's identity straight away.

Elle did not pick it up, she knew he would notice the slightest of movements of anything in this room, but this in particular he would detect immediately. Still, she examined it closely. It was a tiny photograph of a five or six year old Dean beaming brightly in the way that only children know how to, giggling in the arms of a beautiful blonde woman – she was certain it was his mother. Elle remembered her name was Mary; she was a striking looking woman in her late twenties to early thirties when this was taken by the looks of her, long hair hung down to her elbows and green eyes focussed only on her son with an affection that was overwhelming. He looked like her; had the same eyes and matching smiles, he clearly inherited more of his mother's genes than his fathers, she wondered whether or not that was a good thing. He never spoke of either of them and she did not like to ask, she only knew the things about them that were common knowledge in the heavens. Elle wondered what Dean would think of her being in his room and invading his privacy. He would probably be pissed off, she knew she would be if the roles were reversed.

"Elle?"

She froze like a naughty child caught in the act of sneaking biscuits from the kitchen cupboard, a guilty pang running through her. It took a second for her to realise that he was not actually in the room with her; the voice was so clear and present in her head. Then she felt the familiar pulling sensation. Dean was praying.

Before she could register what she was doing she was standing in front of the youngest Winchester and grabbing him harshly by the arm, wordlessly telling him they were about to depart. She did not have to tell him why, the look across her face said all he needed to know: Dean was in trouble and she was anxious.

"C'mon Elle, dammit!" Dean demanded forcefully.

Elle got them to the oldest brother's side before he had even finished his sentence. He jumped back slightly, surprised at her haste and that she had managed to bring Sam along too. The relief was evident in his entire body; his shoulders relaxed, his eyes softened and became less frantic, his fists had unclenched. Whatever the situation was, he saw an end to it now.

For a moment she almost did not notice her surroundings, so engrossed was she by her charge. It hit her in a wave of shock when she came to her senses. They were in some sort of warehouse; all concreate and corrugated iron and the heavy scent of gun powder. To her left, Castiel hung half-naked and unconscious by strips of his own skin tied to a steel hook, torn from his back and only just holding his weight – he would fall before long – there was a jagged cut to his neck that seemed to have been hastily stapled together. To her right, Dean's face was bloodied, but she could see no cuts nor bruises; it was not his own blood, but another's. She wondered if it could belong to Castiel, but shook her head determinedly, he would not hurt his friend. His hair was a mess and his breathing was stressed, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

"Ah, there you are, sweetheart! I wondered when you would arrive," The voice from behind her leered menacingly. There he stood, Myantion. She would rather have gone the rest of her life without seeing him again. It was difficult to focus on his angel form, it took a lot of intense concentration and she was scared to do so too much; she did not want to miss anything else going on. He had chosen a vessel that suited him. The jet black hair and narrow slit-like eyes were a sharp reflection of the raven head and snake body that featured in his angel form.

"Long time, no see." Elle responded nonchalantly, she was trying desperately to keep calm despite the man before her. Her eyes darted to Dean, who she could now see was restrained by a chin about his left ankle; a chain etched in angel warding, she could not tough it no matter how much human blood was mixed with hers. He gave her a grimace that clearly said she had been right about them not coming here in the first place.

He evaluated her carefully, checking for weakness. "Quite," He actually seemed impressed with what he saw, as though her strength to maintain her cool were something he admired. "I had heard you had found a way out of the fire, sweetheart, gave me a bit of an idea."

Her back straightened imperceptibly, a tiny bristle that she knew he would notice. "Why are you doing this?"

"Creating more abominations?" He asked with an over-exaggerated and elegant flick of a long fingered hand. Elle forced herself to let the insult slide, no need to give him any more ammunition against her.

"She's not-" Dean argued, but stopped at the harsh look Elle threw his way.

She resumed the cocky attitude she was working to exude. Even if she did not feel all that confident, she could not let Myantion know that. "How are you even alive?"

"I have my friends and you have your enemies." He explained vaguely, knowing full well that he was annoying the hell out of Elle, and enjoying it immensely.

"If you wanted me dead you could have done it by now." That is, after all, what Castiel had told her would be the plan.

"Darling, we both know that," Myantion agreed with a sneer. "Your rebellion was disappointing, was it not? Even Castiel did better. He was God once, did he tell you that? Quite the vengeful little thing, isn't he? Always doing what he thinks is right. Except saving you, of course, but perhaps your freedom was not the right thing?"

Elle ignored the insinuations and quickly moved the conversation onwards. "What's your game?"

"To get you here," He replied casually, "I needed you out of the way."

She was getting frustrated, "So, why don't you just kill me already?"

He did not answer, instead he moved toward Dean. He did not get very far however, with a snap of Elle's fingers a bloom of flames erupted at his feet. They flared as high as the room allowed before falling into ash. The villain inched slightly backward, the heat of the fire causing him to retreat further than he would have liked. Elle smirked at this reaction, she could actually see his composure breaking in the flickering light. She had not even known she could do that, her instincts were taking over and it felt as though her thoughts were transcending into actions and abilities. She could not remember ever having done that, even before Hell.

"Holy fire?" He questioned in mild surprise. "Hotter than Hell," He quipped, "But you'd know that, of course."

"Don't push it." She held her hand ready in warning. "One more step and I won't miss."

"A little overprotective of your charge, aren't you?" He tittered. The fire rose and sank once more in exactly the same spot, only this time she had not moved a muscle. She arched her brow in challenge, she almost wanted him to give her an excuse to really attack – she could not, of course, do that. At least, not until they knew the full extent of his plan.

"Neat trick." He applauded sarcastically, a mischievous grin in place. "I've got a few of my own."

He pointed to something behind her that she had not noticed yet, reluctantly she turned her back on him. Not wanting to let him out of her sight. Luckily, as soon as her gaze followed his direction he appeared in front of her. Sadly, what awaited her was not so pleasant.

He slammed a freshly cut palm onto this unnoticed decoration upon the wall. Before she felt the wrenching upward jerk above her navel she recognised the graffiti; a thick, scarlet blood sigil. The one she would have given anything to avoid.

…

White. So much white that there could be no doubt as to where she was. Nothing had changed except for her. She came here with no blood on her hands this time, innocent. The only other difference was the man she found herself before.

A wizened angel with only the four heads, one of them human-looking with golden irises and thick lips, gazed down on her pleasantly enough; his three arms gestured to a chair that would have been almost invisible against the marble were it not pointed out. It was surprisingly soft and warm for such a barren room. This time there were no spectators, this was no trial. She did not have time for this, she needed to get back. Dean was in trouble after all.

"Child, do not look so worried," The angel advised gently, "Your charge is fine for the moment."

"Joshua?" She knew him, of course, every angel in existence knew him. He was the only angel that God talked to these days.

"Yes, child." He confirmed. At her still anxious frown he added: "Dean Winchester will not die today, you can be sure of that," He sensed her discomfort and its source.

She relaxed minutely, but still pondered running out; though it was an extremely bad move on anyone's part to skip out on the only person to have any contact with God. Only an idiot would do that, a slight on Joshua was as good as a slight against God himself.

"Why am I here?" She blurted, half comforted and half concerned for her own safety.

"Myantion's blood sigil sent you," He explained serenely, nothing ever appeared to worry Joshua, probably because he knew the plans for everything in existence. "I brought you here the same moment you arrived in Heaven."

She blanched, that did not sound encouraging to her. "Am I- Am I being punished?" She spluttered, confused. She had not done anything this time, were they going to send her back to Hell? She did not think she could do that again, not without a purpose; Dean's redemption had been the only thing to keep her going the first time.

Joshua smiled, indulging her in a soft and gentle chuckle, shaking his head. "Why should you think that?"

"Last time… The whole rebellion thing…" Elle did not want to mention the tiny little bit of murder that had tipped her into the Pit, as though it would mitigate what she had done, despite her not feeling any regret for committing it whatsoever. "Any of it ring a bell?"

"You were doing things for the greater good and you were right about the corruption of Heaven, Why should God want you to suffer any more than you already have?" His smile stretched, he was speaking to her as though she were an equal, as though she were an angel and not an abomination.

God? God did not want her suffering? Is that what Joshua was implying? It could not be. God would not care, he had forbidden her very existence in the first place. "But I'm a Nephilim." She argued bluntly, with no idea as to why she was even questioning God's mouthpiece.

"That you are… in a way." He half confirmed.

She ignored his vagueness in favour of the nagging that bothered her. "So… shouldn't God hate me?"

"Who do you think gave you Grace, child?" Joshua asked pensively, it seemed that he enjoyed giving her information, but he was going to take his time with the whole story. "Who else would have allowed you to live with the angels? Who do you think raised you from Perdition?" He shook his head in an avuncular fashion. "God does not hate you, child."

"But why not?" She could not help the childish way the words spilled from her lips, but it was unavoidable and the words just wormer their way through the gap between her lips.

He did not trifle himself with chiding her. "You are not a Nephilim born from disobedience, you were made. Created by Him Himself, you are the only one. The first and last of your kind to be made by the hand of God." He gave Elle a moment to let that revelation sink in before he continued with the next morsel of information. "You are the virtues of both Man and Angel, the very brightest of both races. He says you are his greatest creation."

Elle gave him a blank stare as she accustomed herself to this news. She could not quite comprehend what this meant for her. She supposed that would have been why the angels did not even consider putting her to death for her crimes as they would have any other. They would have slaughtered any other Nephilim as soon as look at them – that is how angels were taught – but if God favoured her… Perhaps that could have spared her, at least in part anyway.

"You are not Nephilim, not truly, there is no name for you." He added once he was certain the declaration had been absorbed. "Your kind is the most powerful thing in all of Creation."

Elle gave a puzzled grimace. "So why are there no more of me?" It would have made more sense to her if God had made her to be powerful if he had made many, no army would only make one bomb.

"The angels were jealous of you, of course," Elle was thoroughly unconvinced by this explanation, the angels had been horrible to her out of hatred for her difference not through jealousy, surely? Nonetheless Joshua continued: "He did not want the same jealousy of you as with Lucifer and the mortals."

"Is that why Myantion wants to destroy me?" She wondered aloud.

"Yes," Joshua seemed pleased that she was taking this so well for someone so young. "He is trying to replicate how he thinks God made you. He thinks if he builds enough of an army he can rule over Heaven."

"Which he can't?" She hoped.

"Which he can't." He repeated. "This race he is creating are stronger than angels, yes, but they are not as strong as you, nor are they as disciplined as we are taught to be."

Elle doubted that she could do anything against a couple of them, let alone an army, but she dismissed her scepticism. "And it is not going to end well for the humans involved?"

"No," He replied grimly, his expression on the human-like face turning darker. "Nor the angels." He did not seem quite as upset about that, it seems Heaven's corruption was either ongoing or unforgiven, she could not decipher which. "He is recruiting them under false pretences and stealing their Grace though they give it willingly. That is the only way to remove a Grace from a body; willingly. No doubt you know that." His golden eyes pierced her. She did, she had let hers go easily before her descent. Everyone knew it would kill the barer if it was removed against the owner's will. "They think it is what God has ordered." Joshua reiterated.

"Why?" She knew she was begging to sound like a broken record, but it was necessary to get the answers she needed.

Joshua frowned as though he did not like to give her this information, as though he were afraid to hurt her feelings or something. "There is a rumour in Heaven that a demon raised you, specifically the King of Hell."

"Never heard of him," Last she knew Lucifer was still running things down there, or was until the Winchester's stopped the apocalypse. She was not aware someone else had taken charge, had not bothered to ask. Whoever it was must be pretty arrogant to have crowned himself king.

"Your charge was a Knight of Hell in your absence," He added as if that would tell her everything. She knew that, Dean had told her himself. "He still bares the Mark of Cain."

Her stomach dropped, "Yes," She affirmed slowly, trying to see what he was getting at. "But it doesn't affect him, it can't anymore. Dean is… good. Righteous. " It was true, the mark was never truly removed, but it could no longer do damage any more so than any other old scar.

"He always was," Joshua corrected, he knew as well as anyone that the oldest Winchester had always been the light amongst the dark. "However, there are factions that still believe him to be under the demon Crowley's influence."

"Crowley, the one who sold his soul for a few extra inches?" His story was laughable in Heaven. "He is King of Hell?" Of course he was, only someone as shallow as he would name himself king to a throne of flames.

"Yes," Joshua could see her train of thought and agreed with her slight amusement, he thought it must be strange for her having missed so much down there.

Elle pondered the situation carefully for a moment or two. "So, he's convincing them that I'm in league with Hell's army?"

He nodded gravely. "So it would seem."

"I'm not." She was not entirely sure why she felt the need to assure Joshua that she was not in league with Hell, but it still seemed a good idea.

"I know," He smiled tentatively, trying to reassure her of his faith, "Most others believe too, but some are willing to cast you as the villain in whatever way they find possible."

Of course they were, for her whole life she had played the victim to other angels painting her as the bad guy in any way they could. It worked most of the time, the angels would rather believe a half-breed to be a liar than one of their own. That was something Elle had been forced to learn very early in her short life.

Elle was thoroughly bewildered by everything she had learned. "So… what am I supposed to do about that?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Angels don't tend to listen to me."

"Nothing," Joshua snickered at her incredulous expression. "Not yet." He clarified.

"I don't understand."

He chuckled once more, "For now, you must only concern yourself with saving your charge from himself," He was forbidden to tell her why, but she would find out soon enough. "You will know what I mean when you get back to him."

"When will I get back?" Some part of her was anxious to return, even though it would mean facing Myantion once more.

"In around thirty seconds." He told her. "Take care, child, we will speak again soon." He vanished, the sound of fluttering wings floated past her ears and she knew he would not come back should she ask; he had said his piece and would explain no further.

"Elle?" A familiar figure was hurrying her way.

"Cas!" She exulted, "You're okay?" She could not remember ever being quite so pleased to see this angel, despite all that had happened between them.

"I'm healed," He responded, "Thank you for your concern," He added formally.

Elle was not sure why, but she hugged the angel about the middle, holding tight for a brief moment. He went rigid under her arms and she realised Castiel had not quite gotten the hang of hugs yet. He must be the most socially awkward person she had ever met and that only endeared him to her.

"We have to go," He announced stiffly and Elle nodded, she needed to get back to Sam and Dean soon.

…

Elle flew them back to the warehouse in Austen, Texas. Elle had been certain that she would see Myantion there; visions of him torturing the brothers had flooded her mind only to be washed away by the reality. Sam lay face-down on the cold concrete and Dean crouched in a corner panting heavily, Myantion was nowhere in sight.

"Check him," Dean barked as soon as he heard wings, his voice softened when he realised it could be Elle, but he would not turn around. "Please."

She did as she had been bade. Elle rolled Sam onto his side as gingerly as she were able, he did not even feel the movement. She placed two fingers along the pulse line at his neck and sighed with relief to feel the pounding rhythm of his heartbeat, she carefully tested each bone and muscle point – prepared to apologise if she caused any pain, but she was all clear.

"He's fine," She called to Dean, "Just unconscious."

"Good." Dean managed in a pained grunt.

Elle edged herself over to where Dean still perched, his back firmly placed to her. "Are you all right?" She enquired tentatively, placing a soft hand upon his back and rubbing soothing circles. Something was off about the way he refused to look at her.

"I'm fine," He insisted, shrugging away her concern. "Bastard got away though." He groaned, shifting the topic.

"Yeah," She had pretty much gathered that. "I noticed." She sat herself at his side, studying his body language as he coughed around laboured breaths. "What happened?" She questioned, hoping he would cooperate.

"Not much," He shrugged vaguely. "He wasn't keen on Cas, thought you'd sent him in your place. Then he realised who I was and wanted to use me to get you sent to Heaven, probably back to Hell or something."

Something was off about his response and he refused to change his position. She could tell easily that he was telling her the truth, but he was also leaving out something on the edge of her mind, something truly vital. "He thought the angels would send me to Hell again?" She asked to clarify.

"I guess," He muttered, waving a hand as though he could not care less. "The hell do I know?"

Elle bit her lip tersely, on the edge of her perception there was definitely something different about him. He would never have been so dismissive of her normally. "What would you have done if they did?"

"What would it matter?" Dean spat out harshly, his breathing returning to normal with every passing second.

That decided it all for her, he was definitely not himself. "Cas, take us back." She ordered, "Now." Elle added when he did not act fast enough for her liking.

"I cannot," Castiel admitted sadly, pointing to his neck. The jagged cut was gone, but she remembered how raw it had looked.

Castiel gave a searching look in her direction, but her eyes were firmly fixed on her charge. This was what Joshua must have been rambling about. She needed to save him from himself.

She transported all four of them back to the bunker, restraining herself as much as she possibly could to ensure that none of them were harmed by the landing. She knew then the part of the story Dean had been leaving out.

Suddenly Dean snapped his head up to meet her stare, he knew she had figured it out, it was plainly written all over her face. "Let me explain," He tried, but it was too late.

Elle was furious with him, more than furious; her vision clouded with the heat of her rage. There was only one way for her to test the theory swirling about her mind. She gave no warning as she flicked her wrist in his direction and flung Dean to the couch with a little more force than she would normally have used, but he had lied to her; perhaps a lie of omission, but a lie all the same. Dean stumbled to his feet, incredulous as to her actions; why would she even do that to him, even if she knew what the others did not.

"Help me get Sam on to the sofa," Castiel demanded in an effort to halt her anger, and remind them both that Sam was still yet to wake.

She raised his legs whilst Castiel carried his torso, stood behind the giant's head. "No, put him on the table instead." Castiel followed her lead unquestioningly, noticing quietly what Dean had not. Elle did not really think _that_, did she? He wondered as they lay Sam down upon the great table.

"What is wrong with you, Elle?" Dean questioned angrily, rubbing his right shoulder upon which he had landed unceremoniously.

"You." She answered calmly, keeping her distance for reasons only Castiel was aware of. Elle held all the cards now, but she did not want him to be aware of that just yet.

He glared at her as if it were her in the wrong. "Bitch." He huffed.

"Arse." She retorted quicker than he expected. She really must have been fuming. A part of him did not blame her.

He smirked, the first actual Dean-like expression that had crossed his face since she had come down from Heaven. He loved when her accent became stronger.

"I'm only going to ask you this once, Dean," Elle warned, her voice taking on a dangerous undertone, "What really went on? And don't you dare skip any of the gory details." She waved a finger at him menacingly.

He could tell she was serious; she had not raised her voice and yet he caught every word clearly. Dean frowned, she was giving him a chance to explain himself; they both know he would have shot or attacked her by now were the roles reversed. He was immensely glad they were not. Though, he was certain that she would never have done what he had in the first place.

"Everything I told you is true," Dean finally said evasively.

She rolled her eyes in disbelieving irritation at the mortal. "He was speaking the truth," Castiel reinforced, only serving to annoy Elle further.

"I know that," She snapped, frustrated; they all knew Castiel would have contradicted Dean earlier if he had been lying. "What I want is for you to tell me what happened when Cas and I got blasted."

Dean's eyes darkened, he hurled himself toward her. Or tried to. It was as though his body were thrown against some invisible wall that could never be knocked down. He froze mid-air for a second; the expression on his face was almost comical, going from shock to confusion to enlightenment. He could not move past that thin brown line of paint. Elle was glad she had made Sam fix the trap that morning. He shrank back from the lines with a small animalistic hiss of disdain. She was more calculating than he gave her credit for, it was almost as though she had seen this coming, he thought, maybe that is why she did not want him going in the first place.

"I think you know," Dean spat.

Of course she did, she knew him better than he did himself; only… he was not himself. Not right now.


	7. Break

Dean paced his confines, explicitly careful not to touch the lines the kept him within the six meter diameter of the circle. Elle knew how he would be feeling; how she had felt being trapped in there, and yet she did not feel sorry for him.

"Feels heavy in there, doesn't it," She called to him from the opposite side of the circle. "It's kind of like you're being trapped underwater, weighed down by lead shoes and yet somehow you can still breathe through the crushing sensation. Am I right?" He made no more of a response than to glance her way in disgust and huff in his annoyance. "Thought so."

"Break it." He snapped forcefully, coming toe to toe with the girl, only the thin brown line keeping him from throttling her in frustration. He needed to get away from the suffocation of this trap; the human part of him felt guilty for leaving Elle in it for a whole night. It was torture.

She stared back coolly. "Tell me what happened." Elle countered, what she thought to be quite reasonably.

"Ask him." Dean growled, jerking his head toward Castiel who remained at the long table. The angel had already tried to explain the happenings of the excursion he took with Dean, but she would not hear it from him. She did not need it from Castiel.

Elle wanted to see if Dean would lie to her, to assess what exactly had changed in him. "No, I want to hear it from you." She told him in monotone.

Dean made no effort to answer her, his glare saying all he thought there was to be said. He was furious that she had trapped him without him giving her a reason, though in fairness he knew exactly what he was capable of; Myantion had not stinted on that information. She was smarter than he gave her credit for and that only made him angrier.

"Look, let's make a deal," Elle suggested, knowing they would get nowhere without one. She realised she sounded a little like Dean before he left, when he tried to convince her to be left behind. She sat down cross-legged upon the floor, just outside of his reach, and plucked a knife from the waistband of her jeans and twirled it about in her right hand. Dean wondered when she had acquired such a blade, he was damn sure she would be able to use it. Would it be of any use against him? He doubted it. Dean shook his head as she continued her offer. "You tell me everything and tell the truth and I break the trap." She gave him a moment to consider this proposal. "Agreed?"

"Fine. You wanna know?" He questioned with a smirk. He knew how attached to him she was growing, he knew this would devastate her and yet this new part of him relished at the prospect. The look on her face told him she was aware of all this and somehow that made it all the more delicious to him.

"Are you an idiot? I would not have asked if I didn't!" She was putting up a brave front and he could see right through it, but went along with it anyway. "The whole story," She clarified once more, she could see the delight in his eyes; how he was revelling in the chance to destroy her emotionally.

Dean complied with a mischievous grin. "The first couple of days we spent trailing humans who were volunteering. It turns out they thought they were testing out some sort of new drug. One that would make you stronger, smarter, faster, better-looking. Bastard had put out a dozen stories of what this thing did. Humans, man, they're so freaking stupid. They clamoured for the drug. Myantion told them the risks, even said they could die and they accepted." He chuckled darkly at his blatant criticisms. "We broke in and he found me on the third day, didn't take him too long to figure out who I was, dude's got some creepy mind reader crap going on." Dean examined her face, briefly toying with the idea that she might be able to do that too, but he decided she couldn't; after all it would be easier for her if she could just pluck this information from his head. "He seemed real interested in why you would even let me go there. Said you must have known what you were doing. Had a nice little tale about Crowley, you know it, I'm sure. The one where Crowley raises you from Hell? Yeah that one. You could have told us at least." Elle had to hand it to Myantion, his lies would be convincing if it were not for the fact that she had not wanted him to go in the first place; perhaps he now thought it was some sort of clever rouse. "Then he asked me to call for you, so he could send you back to Heaven; you wouldn't be harmed, but you wouldn't be able to do any harm either. So now I've shared, how about you follow through with your end?"

Elle frowned. "Not yet, I need to know what happened to Cas too. And what happened whilst I was in Heaven."

Dean blasted out a short explanation in such nonchalance, it was as though he thought the angel irrelevant. "Myantion took his Grace and strung him up to watch. Seemed like the two of them didn't like each other much." He sounded almost bored.

"Try not at all," Castiel interjected.

"Right. With a spare Grace going up for offer, Myantion told me that if anyone could stop whatever you and your little Hell Army were planning it would be me. He seemed to think you trusted me." He glanced casually to the sofa where she had thrown him the moment they arrived back at the bunker, it was still askew not to mention tipped onto its back. "Guessing he was wrong. We done here?"

Elle nodded bringing the blade in her hand to the painted division. "Oh and one more condition," She purred, withdrawing the knife to a safe distance. "I need you to agree to remove that Grace."

His face contorted in outrage. He had fulfilled his side of the deal, it was not fair. "No," Dean denied sharply, entirely consumed by a feeling of being double-crossed.

She groaned in annoyance. "If we take it out without consent, it will kill you." All she wanted is for him to consent and be safe, then all of this would be over for a little while.

"No." He declined, "but thanks for your concern." He mumbled sarcastically.

"Dean, it belongs to Cas – it isn't yours to take," Her tone had changed completely and she seemed tired of everything, she was certain he would refuse.

"Neither was yours," He spat quickly.

"So that's what he's telling people." She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. "It's a lie, Dean. I never took this Grace. It is mine and no one else's."

Dean scoffed and looked to Castiel for confirmation. It was the first time he had so much as acknowledged the angel since insisting that he tell the story instead of Dean. "Then how did you get it? Nephilim don't have Grace, I checked with your buddy Myantion."

"It was given to me… by God." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two very different reactions from Sam and Castiel. The youngest Winchester was thoroughly shocked, whereas Castiel nodded as though everything made sense and all the pieces had finally fallen into place. She had pretty much expected this.

"Yeah right," Dean dismissed, shaking his head in disbelief.

She looked him dead in those green eyes of his. "Yeah. Right." Elle said in all seriousness.

"Liar." Dean rebuked, his patience all but warned.

She huffed and stood quickly, "Story time is over." She announced, taking long strides to the kitchen where she knew there would be coffee and damn she needed some right now.

"Stop trying to hide the monster within. It gets old real soon, I should know." He called tauntingly. She knew he was referring to when he was under the influence of The Mark of Cain, she doubted he truly knew himself how dangerous he was right now. More than he had ever been before. To himself especially.

She rounded back, irked by his hollering. "I've never lied to you."

"Sure," He replied, his voice soaked with sarcasm. "Enlighten me. When you found out you were made by some angel screwing a whore, how did it feel?" He enquired mockingly.

"Dean," Sam warned.

Elle waved a hand airily to convey she was handling it. "Pretty shit." She told him honestly. "But it wasn't true. None of it was." She remembered what Joshua had confided in her and felt a tiny bit better about herself. At least she knew she was not an abomination any more, that made being what she was a little easier to deal with.

"So how do you explain your existence?" Dean pressed, still sat where she had left him.

"I wasn't born, I was created." She divulged.

"By who?" It was not Dean who asked, but Sam. He seemed genuinely bewildered as though he had not been prepared for this information. He had not considered any other explanation of her birth aside from angel and human mating.

"God." She answered calmly, no hint of dishonesty in her entire being.

"Liar." Dean repeated. Internally he was confused; on the one hand he had not really wanted to believe Myantion no matter how plausible his words had seemed, yet on the other hand Elle's version was so absurd that it gave him no choice but to go with the former.

"Joshua told me." She told them, hoping the name would give her at least a morsel of credibility.

"That's where she was brought as soon as she arrived in Heaven." Castiel informed them all, he was beginning to feel something close to anger at Dean's sudden attitude change.

"Whatever, say you're telling me the truth," Dean shrugged. "Clearly God realised he fucked up and didn't make any more of you, fortunately."

"You know what? Fine, I'll leave you the God damn Grace, but when it kills you – and it will, believe me – don't expect me to help." She meant it. Every word. He was already looking tired, how much longer could he last without any other signs of his body rejecting the addition. Humans were not designed to accommodate a Grace, that is why so few survived and they all knew it. Except for maybe Dean. Right now he seemed to think himself invincible.

She headed straight for the exit door, needing some time to think about what she should or could do next.

"What about that deal?" Dean fumed, still constrained in the same space.

"Not my problem." She answered, not bothering to turn back. "I'm going for a drive."

Dean started, "If you take the Impala, I swear I'll kill you." He muttered darkly, she did not think he was bluffing in the slightest.

She heaved open the heavy door and turned to face him. "Good luck with that." She sneered. On a second thought she turned to Sam and Castiel. "If either of you let him out…" She trailed off ominously. They both appeared suitably warned as they nodded as consent to her order.

…

Elle had not really taken the Impala. She did not even take a car. Her drive turned into a flight the second she was out of the bunker. Not that any of the others would know that, if they did then maybe they would have guessed where she had gone.

She was back in that same warehouse. The blood sigil wan now browning and crusted, dried into the cement of the wall. The hooks that had held Castiel were the same and as the breeze from her wings stirred the air around them tiny flakes fluttered, falling to the floor. If it were not for this then she would never have thought anyone had been her in years. The dust was thick upon the stone floor, the odd boot-print trail being the only evidence of activity, though even that had been covered up somewhat. They definitely did not look fresh anyhow. She had to hand it to Myantion, he and whatever cronies he had had left this place a half hour ago at the most and he had managed to clear up pretty well. Except for the stench. That sweet rotting stench that she had not noticed on her first visit, though she supposed she had been a bit preoccupied at the time.

Curiosity led her to try to locate the source. It was not a smell she recognised in the slightest. She followed along the walls of corrugated steel until she found a panel that wobbled under the softest ministrations of her fingers. It was definitely more putrid here. She jiggled the panel, finding the edges so she could slide it aside. As soon as she had, she wished she had left it well alone.

Behind that panel was every last scrap of Myantion's doing. Or rather his failures. It revealed a room of an unfathomable size, unfathomable because she could not see any of the sides due to the piles upon piles of obstacles in the way of her vision. These were what she could smell. There must have been hundreds of them, all jammed in untidily and without respect. Corpses. This is where he was leaving the remains of whoever did not survive the implantation. Seeing their mangled forms twisted, twined and tangled together like they were of no more importance than a child's toy collection jammed into a too-small toy box sickened her more than she thought it could have. She knew they were dying, that very few were surviving and yet seeing the evidence was quite another thing. A part of her was screaming at her to slide the panel back into place and forget the image all together, yet another part was telling her she needed to commit every last detail to memory; to sear every backward-bent arm, every intertwined limb, every tortured face firmly into her brain. There were so many unnecessary bruised, broken bones protruding flesh, jagged cuts to the throat that no one had bothered to stitch up knowing that the person was a dud already. So much blood, so much waste. She was certain this would play a starring role in her nightmares for a long time to come.

Without warning she twirled away and promptly vomited, the stench and sight finally working its way through her nervous system.

"Quite grisly, isn't it?" A voice called to her quietly, far closer than she thought was really necessary.

She froze, bile threatening to choke her if she did not release it. Elle did not look up, she half-hoped she was imagining things.

"There, there, it's quite alright to let it out." The chill that tore through her spilled the last contents of her stomach, but it was the gentle pat upon her back that caused the eruption of gooseflesh upon her arms.

Elle whirled, struggling to keep herself upright. Her bout of queasiness had left her dizzy and disorientated, but not she could see that she was no longer alone. Though not surrounded, not by far, the presence of this one being made her feel as though she were alone on a battle field against an army ten thousand strong.

"Why?" She asked calmly, feeling a rage reminiscent of the first – and what she thought would be the last – time she met face to face with Myantion. "Why are you doing this?"

"Which part, sweetie?" The way he used an affectionate name for her so casually made her skin crawl as much as the sight of the bodies had.

She had to give herself a mental shake. "Why are you making Nephilim? Why are you saying I am working with Hell? Why did you kill Dean?"

To give him his due, he actually seemed mildly surprised at this. "He is dead?"

"Not yet," She admitted sheepishly.

Myantion brought a hand to stroke his chin in contemplation, "But he _is_ showing signs, yes? Perhaps he is looking a little… _haggard_?"

"Yes." He was, Dean had appeared an inch from sleep when she had last seen him.

"What a pity, he showed promise." He responded with a hint of genuine disappointment. "Ah well, I suppose we can't have everything." He brushed away brightly.

"Why?" She repeated, ignoring his subterfuge. Her hands folded across her chest in an effort to conceal their shaking. Whether it was from fear or rage she could not be sure.

Myantion sniggered. "This is not about _you_, you ignorant child, not as you think anyway." His lips quirked in a twisted mess of a smile, straining the skin at his cheeks in the unattractive freakiness of a psychopath. "I should thank you actually; you inspired me."

Elle blanched. That was unexpected to say the least. How on Earth had she inspired any of this needless chaos? "I- I don't understand." She told him honestly, there would be no reason in pretending she did; he would see straight through any such façade in any case.

He waved his arm in an exaggerated fashion, "I thought to myself: if someone like you could defeat me, then imagine what many of your kind could do to Heaven." He paused for effect, relishing in her bafflement. "Think of it, darling: me running things up in the clouds. Sounds peachy, don't it?"

Frankly it did not. It sounded nothing short of Hell to Elle, and there was already one of those another would be redundant. "It won't work." She told him brazenly, hoping that he would see how disastrous that would be.

"Don't be a Debbie Downer!" He laughed off her comment unabashed, he waggled a mock-scolding finger her way, trying to feign a stern expression. It was futile. He could not keep it up, the glimmer of success was far too near for him. "Of course it won't, my dear, not that way at least; it is merely a diversion for the main act."

"Which is?" She could not help it; the question had burst from her lips before she could tell herself he would not indulge her with that information.

"If I told you, I would have to kill you." He replied, reaffirming her thoughts. "I may have to do that anyway, sadly." Contrary to his words, he did not seem upset in the slightest at the possibility of her death.

"How did you come back?" She enquired impulsively. If this is how it ends, she may as well know how she had failed.

"You haven't worked it out?" He appeared to be sincerely disappointed by her lack of knowledge, as though he had expected better. She tried to hide her embarrassment, but no doubt he saw it anyway. "I knew you were tracking me, days before you found me. I simply had someone replace your blade." So simple. How had she not noticed something like that? Of course; he would not be killed by something that was not designed to do such to him.

_Elle? _

Sam? That was new, he had never prayed to her before, she supposed he had never needed to – she was usually there with him. She felt a familiar pull, not quite as strong as when Dean called to her, but still potent enough to cause pain.

"Gonna have to cut this short." She announced, turning on the cocky persona she had watched Dean wear far too often. "Until next time, loser." She gave him a mock salute before letting the tugging sensation take her to where she was needed.

One moment she was in that warehouse, the next she was back in the bunker. Next to Sam. And Dean. To top it off, they were all exactly where she hoped they would not be. In a certain brown circle.

"Thank you, Sammy." Dean muttered.

Sam said nothing, but gave Elle an apologetic grimace as he left the circle. It was beyond obvious that he had been made to pray to her by Dean. Dean probably put on some kind of emotional display and, Sam being Sam, the youngest Winchester would not have been able to resist trying to sooth. Poor Sam, Dean would always be a weakness for him.

"You didn't have to do that," Elle told Dean blankly. Dean had obviously made Sam pray within the trap so she would be stuck too.

Dean shook his head, a very un-dean-like, predatory grin spreading his lips. "Would you have answered if it were me?" He moved a little closer, he was now only a foot away. "Would you have stayed?"

"Fair point." She shrugged nonchalantly. She knew she would have done her best not to come, she would have at least left right away.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He came nearer; she stood her ground, refusing to move a muscle. "The human part of me hates the way I speak to you." He was no more than a few inches away, he inclined his hear and brought his lips to her ear, brushing it with his words. "But this new part – this better part – see, he loves it. The way the light fades from your eyes when you get upset. It's more beautiful than anything else in the world."

Elle shoved him away forcefully. How dare he talk to her like that? Dean began to cough, violently. His hand came up to shield his mouth and came away bloody. Given the dark red stains covering his jeans at pocket level, Elle assumed this was not the first time this had happened in her absence.

Elle suddenly felt very guilty for pushing him quite so hard. "Are- are you okay?" She dare not move closer, but the concern was still there, felt by all.

"I'm fine." He snapped brusquely, blood still clinging to strands of saliva about his teeth. "But, baby, I gotta get out of this damn thing and you're my only ticket." If it had been the real Dean talking that would have been a good shiver that ran up her spine at his calling her 'baby', however it was not and that shiver held nothing but undiluted fear. He wiped the blood from his hand onto the back of his jeans, pulling something from the waistband.

Before she could realise what exactly it was, he had her hands behind her back, both gripped firmly in one of his and the object was pressed harshly against her forehead. It did not take a genius to know that it was a gun, despite the fact that she could not actually see it. "Here's how it's gonna go down. Sammy here is going to break the trap or you are going to die, understand that, baby?"

"No," She held up a hand to Sam, who had already begun his way across the room. He froze rooted to the spot, unsure of what he should do. Was she thinking straight? He wondered, it would not surprise him if Dean was bluffing, but if he was not then Sam had to do something.

"I will shoot you." Dean asserted, clicking off the safety. The movement jarred her head slightly and she doubted that the gun was anything less than fully loaded.

"Go ahead, do it." She bluffed, she did not really think he had it in him to shoot her, even if this was a new Dean. The old Dean would not let it happen, or so she hoped. "But unless you have got a round of angel blade bullets, you're gonna struggle."

Once again, Dean's voice was at her ear, seductively pouring his words into the shell. "See I got a theory, maybe – just maybe – since you're not a full angel, maybe we don't need to use angelic weapons. A bullet will kill a human, so I guess we'll have to see if it does the same to you." He released her hands and placed a hand gently on her waist, if it were not for the gun digging into the side of her head she might not have minded being close to Dean like this.

She tried to buy herself time, maybe he would have another coughing fit and she would be able to wriggle free without him pulling the trigger. "And the human you is okay with that?"

A shadow passed over his face. "He doesn't get a say." He said firmly, though she did not know if he was telling her that or his human side. He directed his gaze to Sam once more. "So, Sammy, if you would do the honours."

Again, the younger brother inched forward, but her glare glued him into place for a second time.

"Don't." She all but growled at him. "How long do you think it will take for your body to reject that Grace?" She intoned to Dean, inclining her head to the left so she could see his eyes properly.

Dean chuckled, but his eyes flickered away. "It won't." Something about his discomposure told her he was not as sure of himself as he was trying to portray.

Elle continued as though he had not spoken, keeping the same mysterious tone she had used earlier. "An hour, a day maybe?" She paused long enough for him to return her eye contact. "And for what?"

With her arms still behind herself she twisted her right wrist and with a blood-slick finger she drew patterns in his blood upon his bare arm, but Dean did not even notice. "Sammy, break it or I will shoot her." He roared, shaking aside everything she had said.

"Dean, you can't-"Sam tried to argue.

Elle rolled her eyes and for the first time felt absolutely calm, though she feigned intense panic to keep up appearances. "For God's sake, Sam, break the damn thing! He's not bluffing." But she was.

"Are you sure?" His eyes scanned the mingled array of terror and certainty that sprawled across her visage.

"One of us has to be." And it sure as hell cannot be Dean, she thought. Dean had to think he was getting his way. If he got suspicious, none of this would work and he would probably let the trigger fly in pure frustration.

With a quick peek toward the giant Winchester, she gave him the go ahead to destroy the trap. Sam carefully crouched, casually collecting and pulling out a blade of his own. Slowly, agonisingly, he chipped away flakes of the paint.

"I knew you'd be smart about this, baby." He purred, still not letting go of her. She knew he would keep his hold until he was free. "Besides I didn't really want to mess up that pretty face of yours." It was not until that line had been entirely broken and split that the weighted feeling left both Elle and Dean and they could breathe freely.

Sam threw his brother a scowl that clearly said 'this had gone far enough, Dean' and Dean nodded stiffly, agreeing with his brother despite the situation. He released Elle's waist and pulled her around by the arm; he was being surprisingly ginger in contrast to the maniacal glint that filled up his face. "Shame I still have to do it."

Before she could register his final words a hurricane blasted through her ears, the ringing was unbearable. A noise like a nuclear bomb blasted her senses in an onslaught of rushing vibrations. She could vaguely hear what she thought could be shouting, screeching and the sound of hard running, but she could not trust her ears right now; they were fuzzy and numb to pin down a single thing other than the continuous c-sharp tone echoing, bouncing about her brain. Her vision had disappeared a moment later, blackness enveloped her and she had no idea what on Earth had occurred. Then she felt it.

First came the tsunami of warm, sticky fluid slapping into her neck, her face, dripping in viscous globs onto her chest and arms. Second was the sensation of a nail being drilled through her temple against the helical threads, scraping and clawing at the obstacles that were her skull and everything beyond that, right through to the other side. She absently believed she could feel a draft rattling through along the path of the intruder and shuddered at the chill. Elle heard the soft clang of the bullet as it hit a metal filing cabinet somewhere to her right.

Dean's grip released her arm as fast as he had done the .45s trigger. Elle could feel the air surrounding her parting as her body made its descent to the ground. Colliding against the linoleum flooring cemented everything and she was able to calmly piece together what exactly had happened. Dean had shot her. In the head. And he had run. She wondered if that had been the plan all along. She had never thought to check him for a weapon, she had never thought he would go through with it; but this was not Dean, not as she had known him. What did it matter to her now? The excruciating pain that flooded every nerve of her entire being told her that it was inconsequential. For some reason, she dimly found it amusing that her feet should hurt when the bullet had ripped through her head and not her soles. Elle was not certain whether or not the laughter in her thoughts had translated into vocals or not, but in some twisted way that only made it funnier.

With her final thoughts of consciousness she found that this incident, this outcome did not faze her. She was not afraid. She had always suspected that Dean Winchester would be the death of her.


	8. Gone

"That was… ill-advised." Castiel growled dangerously to Dean in the understatement of the century.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam roared, his hair fanning out like a lion's mane as he lunged toward his brother.

Elle had barely hit the floor and Dean was pounding his way toward the exit when Sam made himself into a human barricade. "She was trying to help you." Sam scolded through his teeth, only just resisting the urge to punch his older brother in the face.

Dean stopped just short of Sam's chest, and in his sudden jerking still he had dropped his weapon. He did not bother to retrieve it. He knew he would not have to. "Out of my way, Sammy." He warned.

The younger Winchester stood firmly, shaking his head in dissent. "No, Dean." He told his brother. "Elle was right; you have to give Cas' Grace back. He'll die without it." They both knew he was right. Castiel had nearly died last time he had gone too long without his Grace.

Dean shrugged, "So?"

Sam made an exasperated grunt and threw his hands to the ceiling in desperation. "Haven't you killed enough people today?" He asked acidly, pointedly gazing at the fallen form of their friend.

"You don't understand, Sammy. She lied to us." Dean said this with such conviction that Sam wondered whether his brother ever actually knew the girl at all. He seemed to believe that Elle would be working with Crowley as Myantion had told him. Sam thought on how absurd it would be to imagine Elle having anything to do with the King of Hell. Dean must really be warped.

"No," Sam asserted with more confidence than he had ever felt before. "Myantion lied to you." He was entirely certain of that.

"Dean, you cannot honestly believe him over Elle, over your friend." Castiel interrupted suddenly behind Dean.

"Can it, Cas." Dean shot back, without so much as glancing at the angel.

"Dean." Sam pleaded, "Seriously, you think Elle would lie to us? Lie to you? Are you totally stupid?" Sam hoped the insult would help his brother snap out of it and realise how obscure it would be to believe Elle would do anything untoward. She only ever tried to help.

Dean was unconvinced. "She didn't tell us she killed him once already, did she? Huh? What else hasn't she told us?" To him, it would seem nothing for her to lie again no matter how much he did not truly want it to be real. "Think about it, Sam."

Sam did. He thought hard. Elle was too much like Dean. She had obviously kept it from them for two reasons: the first being that she wanted them to think the best they could of her and second, she absolutely did not desire them to lose hope; something which Sam knew they all had a little when they found out. How could they be expected to kill something that should already be dead? "Elle didn't lie, Dean." He told his brother resolutely.

The oldest Winchester let out a frustrated growl, "Move, Sammy, don't make me move you." His eyes said he was telling the truth; it would pain him to hurt his brother, but he would do it – if he had to.

"You're not a demon anymore, Dean, you don't have the same powers." Sam reminded, hoping that the unknown nature of his new-found abilities would faze him somewhat. After all, they had all witnessed how difficult and straining it had been for Elle re-discovering her powers and that was instinctual – she was supposed to be able to do these things. Dean was not.

"No I don't," Dean agreed, dismissing the statement. He hated the way Sam had felt the need to remind him of that time when he was a Knight of Hell. Now he was on the other team, so to speak, now he was officially one of the good guys. "But I have angel powers now." He smirked, despite his concern in not having the first idea of how to use them or what exactly they were. He assumed he would find out when he needed them, just as Elle had. "I won't ask you again, Sammy, now move." His voice was as dangerous as his words, dripping with warning.

If Dean used his powers now he could really hurt not only Sam and Castiel, but himself too and Sam would do whatever he could to prevent that. Dean already looked so weak and drained; his eyes were growing more blood shot by the minute and his complexion was almost as pale as it had been that time he had had a heart attack all those years ago. Dark circles mocked them all and he seemed to be fighting the urge to cough up a lung. The eldest Winchester was a mess physically, what with his blood stained jeans and ripped t-shirt, but Sam began to wonder whether or not Myantion had toyed with Dean mentally as well. He was sure Dean would never have harmed a hair on Elle's head if he were in his usual frame of mind.

Seeing Dean become a demon was hard, but this would be a whole new world of difficulty for Sam. At least being a demon was not going to kill Dean like having a Grace seemed to be doing. Like Elle said it would.

Sam did the only thing he could do: he let his brother go.

…

Dean took the Impala, there would be no reason in taking one of the other cars. He was still somewhat shaken by his actions, he had not really thought himself capable of it; it had not been his intention. He killed her and for that he would never forgive himself. He did not want to do any of it, but something else had taken over. He believed every word he had said, only now he began to wonder if he had been too quick to absorb what Myantion had divulged without question; perhaps something inside him wanted to think there could be something wrong with Elle so that maybe he would feel better about himself. Now he was not sure how he felt.

Elle was gone and he was alone. He should have taken her with him, he lamented. She could have shown him how to work these powers. He had tried briefly to 'zap' elsewhere, but somehow it just would not work. He understood now Elle's frustration at their wild expectations, these things would take time to harness and he was not certain he had all too much of that. The coughing fits were still sporadic, but they were building with frequency and there was more and more blood on his hand each time. His insides were rebelling, Elle had been right about that.

He wished she had stayed in Heaven like she was supposed to, like Myantion promised she would. He wished he had solid evidence that she was not working with Crowley in some plot to disrupt Heaven. He wished he could believe her when she told them that God had made her, given her Grace and raised her from Perdition. Most of all, he wished that he had not pulled that trigger. However, what is done is done and cannot be undone, or whatever it was that people said when they made a terrible mistake that they want more than anything to take back.

Dean pushed it all to the back of his mind, he did not need this right now. Focussing on his task would be the only thing that would keep his guilt at bay for a little while. His instructions had been to summon and trap a certain demon and then send word to Myantion. He needed to gather supplies, and think of somewhere to do it that would not be obvious to his brother or Castiel. By this point he had been driving for three hours straight and he still would not ease up on the gas pedal. He was about two miles from a small town, he just hoped they had some kind of new-age hippie hoodoo shop somewhere.

…

Sam moved Elle's body to the sofa in spite of her drawing her last breath more than three hours ago now. He propped her head upon a pillow and brought in blankets to keep her now tepid body warmer than it might otherwise have been. Sam even made the effort of cleaning and bandaging the wound. He seemed to think that if he treated it like a survivable injury he could make it one. If it were a normal bullet, it may have been. If it had not torn clean through one side of her brain and out the other, it might have been. However, Castiel had managed to find the bullet in its blood soaked trail, a small lake forming where it had landed. It was not an ordinary bullet, it was obvious when examining it. It shone too brightly in the muted lamps of the bunker. Elle had been wrong, Dean had gotten his hands on a round of bullets melted down from an angel blade. There was no possible way she could make it through this whether human or angel. There was no hope for her. Castiel had not told Sam of this, he did not think Sam would handle it well in the slightest, but he also knew the brother considered it the more likely possibility.

She looked the same as any other day; her skin still kept the faint blush that lived upon the apples of her cheeks, she was half-smiling as though she was content and comfortable, her hair was as silky and shiny as ever. He did not know what he should have expected. For some reason he had visions of immediate rotting and decay at the moment of death. She did not look dead; she looked like she might wake at any moment and exclaim how freaked out she felt to be stared at whilst she slumbered. She would not though and a part of Sam knew it, he just did not know how to deal with it.

He barely knew the girl, in fact he had hated her more than pretty much anyone else in the world when they had first met. But he had learned enough about her to know that she was a good person. Everything she had done before they met was to keep his big brother safe and everything after had been to keep them all from harm. He doubted there would ever have come a time when she would have hurt them, either purposely or otherwise. She cared. She cared about Castiel, she cared about Sam even though she was well aware of his distaste for her, and more than anything she cared for Dean.

Castiel remembered the first time he had ever realised that Elle might have felt _too_ strongly for her charge.

_"Tauriel, do you not think this is a bit much?" He asked. They were in his favourite Heaven, surrounded by beautiful gardens and honey bees. Quite a contrast to the tone of their conversation._

_She gave him the kind of look a puppy might present its owner when it did not understand something, "What do you mean?" _

_Castiel sighed, "I mean, going to Hell for this man, are you sure it is what you need to do?" He feared that she was not quite grasping the serious nature of what she planned to do. Castiel did not think she would be able to handle a day in Hell, let alone staying until Dean Winchester could be saved. "It would mean doing something unforgivable." It would mean murder, he thought, murder of an angel. Though, he secretly theorised that the angels would send her to Hell for her rebellion in itself simply because they did not see her as whole like the rest of them, she was tainted and most thought she should be purged anyway – but she wanted to make sure; to give them no other option of punishment. _

_"I know that." She retorted petulantly, they had been back and forth over this topic several times in the last few days. _

_"Tau, there is surely another way," Always he tried to seek another path. _

_Always she would reply sarcastically: "To get me to Hell? Then please share it."_

_"Why do you have to go at all?" He countered for the hundredth time. He knew her reasoning back to front by now._

_"To save him." She replied simply. _

_He changed tack; usually he would have explained the garrison's plan to raise Winchester once the seal was broken, however, thus far that technique had been futile. "You'll never get him out alone." _

_This threw her off a little, it was unlike Castiel to throw such a curve ball. "He's not there yet," She managed. "But when he gets there, he'll need something constant." Tauriel asserted. She knew the Winchester brother would fare better if he had someone there with him the whole time, even if he did not really know that person. "Besides, you promised me that you would free us." She reminded him gently. _

_Castiel let out an exasperated breath. "And I shall keep to my word." He vowed carefully and he would if he had anything to do with it. Or so he had thought at the time. _

_"Good," She nodded, satisfied. As far as she was concerned, everything would be fine; of course, she was well aware of how difficult Hell would be for her, but so long as it was for the greater good she did not care. _

_Something occurred to him that he had not yet thought of. "You plan to be the first blood he spills there, do you not." _

_She shrugged evasively. "He might not spill any blood at all if you raise him in time," _

_"But if we do not?" Castiel knew that the Winchester in question would only handle so much before he broke like every other soul in existence, perhaps he would hold out a little longer than most, but in the end everyone gave in. Everyone. It was not unlikely that this mortal would do the very same, just as was the desire of the Heavens. _

_"It seems only fitting…" She trailed off vaguely. _

_Castiel changed tactic once more. "You are needed here." He declared as though that ought to be enough to change her mind. _

_"The rebellion is failing, we both know that." She was losing followers by the day at this point, and not merely through them deciding she was wrong. There were… disappearances. Angels going missing, their throats slit and their Grace gone. All of them angels prominent to Tauriel's cause. All of them, she believed, were targeted because of their affiliation with her. Though, she had heard about someone taking angel Grace for some diabolical cause, but she had yet to investigate the matter. _

_"Maybe not… if you stay." Castiel retorted still trying to convince her to opt away from her current course. _

_She would not be steered away so easily, but then again he had known that. "Being cast to Hell will send out a far bigger statement than my staying ever could. Besides, no one will follow someone they don't even like." Tauriel was hardly the most popular member of the garrison, ask anyone. _

_Castiel sighed, she really would not budge on this. Sometimes he had admired her stubbornness, now was not one of those times. "Have you told anyone else?" He asked. _

_"Only Anna, but I don't think she believes I would do it." They both knew how dangerous it could be if she had told the wrong person her plans. A spy among the ranks could keep her from Heaven and Hell all together. Still, she had Anna and Castiel; the only people she could actually trust, though at times they both treated her like a child. It did not matter much to Tauriel however, she was just glad to have two friends she could honestly say were on her side. Even if they would not disobey direct orders outright, at least they were not trying to get her caught as others had done. _

_"Is there no way to stop him going all together?" He did not hold out much hope, but would rather know if there were any other option. _

_Her expression morphed into extreme hurt, he had not meant to offend her. "You think I have not tried? I even offered the demon my soul in exchange." She sounded tired. Tired and small. "He wouldn't take it, said I was tainted." She explained. He understood. Her kind was not exactly worshipped amongst any beings. _

_He examined her speculatively. "Why are you really doing this?" _

_Tauriel pursed her lips. "I started it." She announced, as though it were an obvious fact._

_"That was not your fault. It was a direct order." Castiel defended her when she would not, it was not in her nature to blame another for her doings even if they were the demands of someone else. _

_"But who from?" She questioned rhetorically. They both had pondered the same thing for some time now, the answer was still unclear. "Dean Winchester is going to Hell. I made that happen. I have to make it right." She sounded guilty and looked as worn out as her argument was becoming. This rebellion must have really been taking everything she had to maintain and yet he saw that she felt it was going nowhere at all. _

_He considered her reply with great care. "For you?" There was a pause, "Or for him?" He sought clarification, a niggling suspicion creeping into his mind. _

_"For both of us, but more for myself, I guess." She admitted honestly. "He doesn't even know it was me, right now he thinks he was hallucinating." Her expression became closed off as it often did when the topic turned to Dean Winchester. "It matters not. I did wrong and I need to serve penance." She asserted with conviction. _

_"You care for him?" He had begun to suspect it for a while now, perhaps even from the first time she had seen him. Before that day she had only ever read about Dean Winchester, been told about him, and yet she always seemed to have a fond sympathy for the man in these briefings. Castiel had thought it to be the kind of affection human women often experience with fictional characters and nothing more. Now, however, he doubted it had ever been quite so simple. _

_He could see her shake herself almost imperceptibly, wiping her face further of any emotion that might give any hint of anything away. "Of course, he is my charge, it's a part of the job, isn't it?" She responded stiffly. _

_"Yes," He agreed, "But it is more than that." He knew she was trying to hide something from him. It was peculiar for him, she usually shared everything; sometimes he thought she shared more than was wise. This change unsettled the angel greatly. "You feel for him beyond what is sensible." Castiel persisted. _

_"Don't be absurd," She waved airily, feigning ignorance to his implications. _

_Castiel made his tone a touch sterner. "Tauriel, you are well aware that I am not being any such thing." _

_"It would not be my place." She deadpanned, knowing that he would disapprove of the truth. She was not even sure what the truth was. Obviously she felt something for her charge, but she had no inkling as to what the exact emotion was. It was something human, of that she was certain, but she had no human acquaintances to go to for assistance. _

_Castiel softened, guessing her train of thought. "That does not mean it has not happened, Tau." _

_"Would it matter?" She flung her arms out, giving up all pretence. "I can never meet him, I can never stay with him, and – more importantly – he would not deserve it. He needs someone so much better." Her most secret thoughts spilled out and she worried that Castiel might be angry at her for having them in the first place, but even more so for keeping them to herself. He looked as though he could be annoyed with her. _

_For a long time he did not answer her, but when he did he surprised her. "So you do." He told her gently. "Be careful, child, he is not as 'nice' to women as you seem to think." _

_She almost laughed. He really had not been paying attention to how hard she had worked, how seriously she had taken her role as Guardian. "You think I haven't seen that? And since when do you call me 'child'?" _

_He smiled benignly. "Your human side is still young and it does not realise yet that an angel cannot love, not really." _

_"Well I'm not entirely an angel am I?" She shot back, a little riled by his reminder of her blood status. "I should not even be here in Heaven, I should not have a Grace, but I am and I do. Why not add the feeling of love to the list of things that I should not have?" She had said before dismissing herself. _

_Castiel could not help but feel responsible for this young one, after all; he was the one to recommend her for the Winchester case. He was the one to start all of this. He would miss her whilst she was away, he thought to himself as she left him alone in the peaceful Heaven of an autistic man. _

…

Dean managed to collect everything he needed for the ritual by charming a small-time huntress who owned the only spiritualist shop in the town he had stumbled upon. He had even found a conveniently empty house to use. The eldest Winchester had chalked out a decent Devil's trap on the living room floor as neatly as he were able to with his shaking hands. Somehow he could not restrain them. Once he had the alter set up and the ingredients laid out before him, his guilt of the earlier events lessened slightly. If this went according to plan, then at least Ell's death would have been for the greater good. Or so he told himself repeatedly it would, anyway.

Just like in the bunker a coughing fit had him doubled over, only this time it was different. This time it hurt like shards of glass forcing their way through his throat, slicing at his vocal chords, grazing his oesophagus. Sharp bursts of squelching splatters of blood landed in his hand along with soft chunks of something he could not recognise by touch. They were uncomfortably warm and unbelievably moist.

On examining them he immediately knew what they were. Small, pinkish brown globs covered in a deep scarlet fluid sat calmly in his palm, violently contrasting with the pale skin of his hand. With no receptacle in sight he scraped them onto the makeshift altar and wiped his hand upon his already sullied jeans. If the family who owned this house were to come back right now, they would undoubtedly call the police – if they were given the chance that is.

…

_Castiel sat with a very young Tauriel in what was currently her favourite Heaven. It belonged to a middle-aged artist whom had had a particular penchant for animal portraits, there were wild animals that roamed a quiet hall, none of them bothering the others. It was peaceful and safe. Tauriel reached out and patted the head of a passing tiger, the beast raised its head and nuzzled her hand as it strolled along at a languorous pace. _

_"You don't have to be around me if you don't want," She said to Castiel quietly. "I know the other angels don't… approve of it." _

_"They do not know you, Tauriel, else they would all want to be around you." He told her firmly. He was saddened that at only four years of age she had the nous to notice the other angel's aversion to her. They all had strict orders to include her, but with her being… different… most struggled to accept her presence for too long. _

_He noticed for the first time that she did not look her age, neither in human terms nor angel; she looked exactly as she had at her birth, always the same. He wondered, not for the first time, why she should look like a young human woman with no hint of her angel heritage, it confounded him beyond belief. Sometimes she asked him why it was, he always lamented not having the answers she wanted. _

_She had been quiet for a long time in that funny way she had of being silent, but enchanting all inside the same moment. "Castiel?" She ventured hesitantly, the child-like quality was beginning to disappear from her voice now she was maturing, he realised he would miss it a great deal. _

_He tilted one of his heads her way in a patient manner, he sensed this was what he had thought to be troubling her for some time about to rear its head. "Yes, Tauriel?" _

_She bit her lip in consternation, unsure of whether or not it would be right to ask what she was about to. Castiel was highly private and she did not yet know if his boundaries would allow it. She did not peek in his direction, instead she was staring fixedly at the landscape painting of a jungle scene that hung before the bench upon which they sat; seemingly fascinated by the use of colour and the tiny details of each brush stroke. "Do you like me?" She questioned in a whisper, so low that he could ignore it if he wished. _

_"Of course, young one." He answered automatically, a fond smile forming around the lips of the face that looked like a lion. _

_She frowned at the speed of his response, it was too quick for her liking; she wanted him to really think about it. "No, I mean, not because you're supposed to." She expanded. _

_ "I do not follow your meaning," He rose a brow in confusion. For someone so young she was able to bewilder him a great deal, somehow he found that endearing. _

_Tauriel made a face of concentration, as though she were willing the words to fall into place inside her mind before she said them. At times like this, Castiel admired her ability to think through her speech, it was something that both angels and humans did not do as often as they should. "Like, if I were normal, would you be my friend?" She reached finally. _

_"Tauriel," He chuckled softly at her innocence. "I am your friend whether you are human, angel or honey bee." He motioned to the latter as one drifted lazily before them on shimmering wings. _

_Once more she lapsed into silence. This time it was clear that she was examining his answer carefully, perhaps to spot a lie or maybe even to construct a whole new meaning. All the while she stared at the painting, noting that the cheetah, orang-utan, snake and lemur all drank from the same stream without threatening one another. She thought about how pleasant it would be should angels share the same attitude, even for as brief a time as these animals would have in real life – to co-exist with her half-kin would be nice for once. _

_"Thank you," She muttered in a breath so low that Castiel wondered if he had ever truly heard it at all. _

Castiel turned to Sam, the youngest Winchester had turned to the only thing he could find any solace in. Research. He was currently scouring the internet for anything the pertained to inserting angel Grace into a human. There was nothing much useful to go on. It was not exactly common knowledge that angels even had a Grace to begin with. There were no myths, there was no lore, and from Sam's point of view there was no hope. He had watched his older brother as a demon, as a Knight of Hell, and even that had not truly worried him as much as seeing his brother's ignorant confidence as part-angel.

Another tab also told the angel of Sam's other research. Bullet wounds. More specifically, the effect of bullet wounds on angels. This was even more useless as all of it only took into account full angels, it did not mention Nephilim or whatever Elle actually was. All it told Sam was that an angel should survive a bullet; that they should not even fall when being shot.

"Sam, it is no use," Castiel told him gently, a note of sorrow tinging his words. He came to sit across from the giant, leaning forward sympathetically. The angel did not quite understand quite why Sam felt the loss so sharply; he had not even liked Elle when they first met.

Sam sighed heavily, "I have to do something."

"Then we should find Dean." Castiel advised, though they both knew that would be damn near impossible; Dean was incredibly good at covering his tracks when he so desired.

"What about Elle?" Sam retorted, dragging a hand down his face. "We can't leave her."

Castiel drew back, he had a feeling his next words would not be taken lightly by the younger Winchester. "She's dead, Sam."

"No." Sam refuted, proving Castiel to be correct. The Winchesters always did seem to have a problem with letting those among the dead stay there if there could be another way.

"It was not a normal round that Dean used." He told him carefully. "He must have forged them from an angel blade." He was watching Sam closely, waiting for the penny to drop, for the realisation to sink in. The long-haired man kept is eyes averted, he knew Castiel was right, but he did not want to accept it. Castiel understood, he did not want to believe it himself. "I know he thought about it a while back, but it never occurred to me until…"

"Until he killed her?" Sam could not even bring himself to say that it was Dean who did it. It just seemed far worse than any of the killings Dean had performed for Crowley when he was a demon. This was the murder of Sam's friend. Of Dean's friend. Sam had thought Elle would be a part of their group now. Maybe an honorary Winchester like Castiel, maybe even a real Winchester if things with her and Dean had continued as Sam saw they could have. That would never happen though now, of course.

Castiel nodded in approval of Sam's acceptance. "Yes, Sam." He paused for something meaningful to say; it was always a difficult conundrum for him as to how much emotion it was acceptable to give away at any given point. He struggled greatly, unable to put how he felt into words, instead he settled for: "I am sorry."

"You don't even seem to care, Cas." Sam snapped, lurching to stand and lean across the table. He was thoroughly frustrated by the angel's lack of extreme emotion. He was tired of feeling like the only one who cared about anything or anyone anymore. It should not fall to him to be the only one who could express sentiment.

Castiel gazed back blankly for a moment, confused by Sam's sudden turn. He remembered that anger was often a human outlet of grief, but he also knew that that did not usually set in so soon after a bereavement. "I can assure you I do." He answered calmly.

"I thought you were her friend!" Sam wanted to shake him, to force something real from the angel's mouth.

"I am!" Castiel roared back, breaking under the weight of both devastation and rage. "I was." He corrected quietly. He would have to get used to telling people that, he thought to himself, that would never quite sound commonplace coming from his lips.

"Great way of showing it." Sam seethed. He appeared deflated, all the fight in him removed. He sat down, fatigue gracing his features.

Castiel analysed the Winchester brother's words. "I do not understand your accusation." He cocked his head, a sign that he was waiting for an explanation.

"What have you done in the hours since she… since it happened?" Sam flared, his tone filled with insinuation. "I was the one trying to stop Dean from leaving. I was the one to move her from the floor. I was the one to start the research. What have you done apart from look at some shiny bullet?" He made himself stop for half a second, long enough to make Castiel think but too short for him to form a comment. "Nothing." Sam answered for him.

"I have been thinking." Castiel said slowly.

"Oh, well kudos to you." Sam spat sarcastically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Sam-"

Sam cut him off. "No, really, top job, Cas!" His voice rose as he spoke in a falsely jolly fashion. "You've been _so_ helpful!"

"Sam!" Castiel was unperturbed by Sam's tirade, but rather something else entirely.

"She's gone, Cas. So is Dean." Sam reiterated harshly. He looked like Dean did when he badly needed a drink. "And you're just sitting there with your thumb up your ass!"

Castiel announced what was bothering him with a somewhat terrified grimace on his face. "She's gone."

"I just said that!" Sam fumed, all together exasperated by the angel.

"No, she is really gone." Castiel tried once more. "As in: she is not physically in the room anymore." He explained.

It was true she was gone. Not just dead, but entirely disappeared. If it were not for the bloodied bandage and the rumpled blankets and the stain on the linoleum from her fall, it would seem as though she had never been there at all.

Sam rushed to the sofa, throwing back his chair with so much force that it toppled backward and crashed to the floor. Castiel was there before him of course, he always would be. The blankets had been thrown back as though Elle had simply sat up and left, which of course was impossible.

"Sam," Castiel called, his hands lost inside his trench coat.

"What?" Sam shouted, a little angrier than he should have, but at present he was into much shock to register that nor care.

Castiel ignored it. "My blade." He explained. "It's gone too."


	9. Believe

Explosions dissipating concrete. Tsunamis crushing a town. A hurricane ripping apart a landscape. A missile tearing through a planet. That is what it felt like. All at once, all inside her head. It was agony, yet beyond the agony there was something else, something bigger. The sensation of each fibre of her brain knitting itself together consumed her. It was not painful, it was not uncomfortable; it was just… odd. The feeling sent the aching away, instead there was only the tugging together of matter and a slight numbness.

Vaguely she was aware of being on the sofa and not the floor as she had expected. There was a bandage wrapped tightly around her head and it itched like hell. Sluggishly, she rose her arm and swiped it away, cringing as it clung to her skin with dried blood. The left side of her face was crusted with the stuff. Tentatively she opened her eyes, thoroughly grateful that the bunkers lamps were so dim. She silently apologised for every time she had ever wished them to be brighter. Her hand crept to the place where she knew there would be a gaping hole in her skull – some sort of morbidly gruesome curiosity propelling the movement – or she tried to reach it at any rate, but her hand skimmed across her temple and into her hairline without obstacle. She could find nothing but smooth skin, not even a scar. Of course, she now knew that her body was trying – and from the feel of it, succeeding – to heal itself. She definitely had not expected that. Even more so, she had not anticipated waking up.

It was then she noticed the shouting. Sam and Castiel were arguing about something or other. She noticed her name featured heavily.

"What about Elle?" Sam retorted, dragging a hand down his face. "We can't leave her."

Castiel drew back, "She's dead, Sam." Well she had already gathered she had been close to that, but surely they must have realised she had a pulse or something by now?

"No." Sam refused to believe. She wanted to prove him right, but they would try to talk her out of her plan, she knew it.

"It was not a normal round that Dean used." Castiel told him carefully. "He must have forged them from an angel blade." So Elle had been right with her bluff, but then there was no explanation as to how she was still here, still breathing. If an angel could not survive it, how could she? "I know he thought about it a while back, but it never occurred to me until…" Castiel continued.

"Until he killed her?" Sam replied bitterly.

Elle zoned out of the conversation, she did not need to hear anymore. Absently she wished she had some sort of weapon. She knew the armoury was well-stocked, but guns and knives were not the sort of devices she desired. Castiel had what she needed. Perhaps she could sneak her way over to them and pluck it from the inside of his coat. Before she had even finished the thought she was twiddling an angel blade between her fingers. It must have been Castiel's, she was sure of it; his was the only one in the bunker. How on Earth she had gotten it, she would never know. She knew now what she had to do. She felt slightly guilty for having left Castiel without his most reliable defence, though it was not as though there were not more than enough weapons in the bunker without it.

She stood, surprised that the action did not draw the attention of the man and angel, no more than six feet away from her. They were too concerned with their quarrel to notice her. She caught her name a couple more times, but it did not attract her interest, she had a plan and she knew she had to follow it if anything was going to help them.

She remembered the sigil she had painted in Dean's blood upon his arm. A long, flared vertical line, segmented by three sweeping curves cutting across its path and accented by six dots, one above each curve on either side of the central line. She hoped more than anything that he had not bothered or not had time to wash the blood away and that he had not discovered it. If any of that had happened, this would not work at all.

…

"Where the hell is she, Cas?" Sam questioned, with more fire in his eyes than there had been for a long while now.

Castiel searched his mind. "I have no idea," He replied in all honesty. "I am just as confused as you, Sam." He was worried that with his blade, Elle might do something she would regret. She was not exactly vengeful, but Castiel could not definitively say that she would not hurt Dean after what he had done, she would no doubt be furious with him. She was, after all, still young – a mere fledgling – and the young were reckless in his mind.

Sam sank back into his chair, concerned and bewildered, "But how could she just…? She was…" He did not want to accept that she had been dead, not when that looked like it was never a possibility and yet he could not explain her lack of pulse nor the coldness of her lifeless form.

"I am aware of that. It should not have happened." Castiel snapped, more harshly than he would have liked, but Sam did not seem to notice. A thought struck Castiel, perhaps they had been wrong. "Unless she was not…"

"How?" Sam enquired, genuinely curious as to how she could have possibly survived such a thing.

Castiel stood, exasperated with Sam for expecting the angel to know everything in existence no matter how absurd that would be. He knew almost everything, but a few scraps escaped him. "I don't know, Sam!" He spat.

Sam frowned, deep in concentration. He was willing to accept that she had never died, not really, he was glad to accept it even. Yet, to think that they would not have noticed her up and leaving them disconcerted him. "Where would she go?" He asked finally, his voice quiet and calm.

Castiel smiled as though the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "The only place she feels she is needed."

Sam thought for a moment. Where would she feel she was needed most? Of course! "You think she found Dean?"

"I think she made sure she could not lose him." Castel assured him, his lips pressed into a thin line as they often did when the angel delved into a deep contemplation.

She was his Guardian, after all, it only made sense that she would go to help him if he were in trouble and boy was he in trouble right now. It almost brought a grin to the youngest Winchester's face to know that his brother was still being looked out for. Then he realised that she might not be too happy with Dean. Sam thought he definitely would not have forgiven his brother quite so quickly had Dean shot him through the head, especially after cooperation. Elle would be furious with Dean. Elle had Castiel's blade. Suddenly Sam was not as euphoric about Elle being around his older brother. Suddenly Sam was terrified of the tiny creature.

…

Dean settled himself behind the altar, it was now or never. He was well aware he was running out of time. He threw the ingredients together hurriedly yet carefully. Adding one at the wrong stage would render the entire lot useless. He added the final component, blood of an innocent (surprisingly one could buy that over the counter were one so inclined), and scanned the page of his demonology text for the beginning of the incantation.

"Nice work," A voice mocked from behind him. He knew that voice. He hoped to God this was just some crazy hallucination born from guilt and remorse, come to haunt him. "Of course, I would have finished by now and not wasted my time coughing my guts up. But then again, I guess I'm just not _graceful _enough for that." A glance to his right showed that he was not seeing things. He gave his new companion a disapproving look at that distasteful attempt at a joke. The newcomer continued blithely. "What's the matter, you _used_ to have a sense of humour, and I thought that was damn funny. C'mon Dean, it took me ages to come up with that one."

He took a step back to examine the situation. She stood before him, marred only by scraps of dried blood that she had not managed to rid herself of in her swiping efforts. This could not and should not happen. What is dead should stay dead, he thought to himself, though he often had a problem with that. Yet there she stood. His friend. The one he shot. Elle. "How?" He choked out after a moment longer that he would have liked.

"How did I find you?" She clarified with a brow quirked into a questioning arch.

He merely nodded, unable to form words through his bubble of shock.

"See that pretty pattern on your arm? It's a tracking sigil." Elle indicated the intricate design upon his forearm painted in his own, now rusty tinted and crusted, blood. "I thought for sure you would recognise it, maybe seen Castiel use it or something." She smiled a little sheepishly, "I'm glad you didn't."

Dean did not seem glad, but at the same time he did not appear all too disappointed either – simply baffled. "But how are you even here? How are you even alive?"

"No idea, I'm just adding it to the list right now." She dismissed impatiently. They did not have time, someone else could be summoning the King of Hell as they spoke.

He shook his head in confusion. "I shot you."

"Yeah," She rolled her eyes, "A girl remembers that kind of thing." How could she forget?

"I shot you with angel bullets." He confessed.

"And yet I'm still here. Maybe it only works in blade form." She waved her hand as though it did not matter. "Look, I don't know how I survived it, but I did and now you and I need to have a little talk." She said in a business-like manner.

"Stat talking then." He retorted, "I don't got all day," He began to cough once more.

"No, you don't." She said pointedly as he straightened up. "You don't believe a word I say, right?" Dean did not answer but she could see he would be difficult to convince by herself. "And you're about to summon the Prince of Hell, am I correct?"

"King of Hell," Dean amended.

"Okay, and then the plan is to hand him over to Myantion." Dean nodded none too perturbed that she should have guessed his plan, so she continued. "I'm asking you to summon this demon right now and I will prove to you that Myantion lied."

Dean eyed her with suspicion. Most of him wanted more than anything to just tell her he would accept whatever she told him, that she did not have to prove anything, but a small fraction of him was unsure. "How do I know you haven't cooked up some scheme to kill me?"

"Dean, if anything is gonna kill you, I promise it'll be that thing in your neck and not me." She told him flatly. She needed him to be shocked into understanding. The only way he would live would be if he stopped being an idiot and believed her.

That uncertainty flared once more. "So you still want me to get rid of it?" He questioned, referring to his stolen Grace.

"No." She looked him dean in the eye. "I want _you_ to want _me_ to get rid of it." She clarified.

"Why?" He shot back quizzically.

"Because if we take it out without your consent, you _will_ die. If you keep it in and continue to be a stubborn arsehole about it, you _will_ die." She explained yet again. "Is there something about this that you do not understand?"

He shrugged. "It's not that I don't understand-"

"You don't trust me." She finished for him.

"Why should I?" He challenged defensively, though he himself could not think of many reasons why.

Elle rolled her eyes in frustration. This back and forth was taking up valuable time. The longer they took with this, the more suspicious Myantion would grow. "Why shouldn't you?" She countered.

"You didn't tell us about killing Myantion, or that you didn't do it well." The way he said it made it sound as though he were criticising her.

Elle took a step backward, her head hanging in shame. If only she had finished the job in the first place, then they would not be here having this conversation, but how was she to have known? "He switched my blade." She told him quietly, she did not comprehend herself why she should feel so disappointed, it was hardly her fault really.

"You still should have said something." Dean retorted, struggling for any real argument.

"And what would you have done, Dean?" She shot back acidly, "You would have given up and you know it." Elle stared him full in the eye for the first time since she had arrived, she could see the faltering of his resolve for brief seconds whilst he stood in indecision.

He broke the eye contact, abruptly becoming fixated once more with the page before him. "You don't know anything."

Elle rolled her eyes in irritation. "I know everything when it comes to you, Dean." She reminded him forcefully, it was her job to do so after all. "I know you used to want to be a fireman when you were growing up. I know you were scared of the dark until you were thirteen. I know about the pink lace underwear you enjoyed wearing and I know what turns you on and off." He had the curtesy to blush slightly as he realised what she was implying. Just how much of his 'behind the scenes' life had she actually been privy to? He wondered. Elle smirked at this response. "Should I go on or are you gonna call the King?"

Dean was clearly undecided. He glanced from her to the book in confusion. At the back of his mind he noted that he was grateful that she did not go on, he did not want to know the tiny details she knew about him. He found it both creepy and enticing and he had the strong notion that she was aware it would have that effect on him.

She let out a frustrated sigh, and reached into the inside pocket of her leather jacket and handed him something she felt would settle his mind. "Here, take it." She gently folded his hand around the grip of her coveted weapon. "The second you think I'm lying at any point, knock yourself out. I won't fight it."

"No." He uncurled his fingers in refusal.

She thrust it into his possession and let go, denying him the chance to do anything other than what she had ordered. "Take it." She repeated in finality.

"So I either trust you or kill you." He said flatly, there was no enthusiasm for either outcome in his voice.

"I guess so." Elle shrugged as though it made no difference to her.

His expression grew conflicted. "You think I would kill you?"

"You did it a few hours ago…" She blurted out harshly before she could stop herself.

Dean flinched at her words and could no longer meet her eye line. "I didn't want to." He whispered, he desperately hoped she would believe him.

He seemed to shrink a little and right that moment she desired nothing more than to envelop him into a hug and promise him everything would be okay, to tell him that she knew he was not himself when he had pulled that trigger, to reassure him that she would forgive him eventually. She just wanted him to be okay. She just needed him to be happy.

Right now was not the time to make that happen though. "Please," She implored, "Just call him so we can get this over with."

Dean clenched his jaw, sending a muscle jumping in surprise. He nodded firmly. He did not think she believed him when he said he did not mean to kill her, but it was the truth. In this moment he doubted he regretted anything more so than letting his finger find that trigger. Well, anything more than those horrible things he had poured down her ear. He hoped she spotted the lies in those words. He hoped she would forgive him in time.

_Dean watched in agony as Elle vanished before his eyes. It was his fault that she had been cast away, his prayer had brought her here after all. Myantion took his hand away from the blood patterned wall and snapped his fingers. Sam fell to the floor. He had yet to hit the ground when Dean landed at his side, cushioning the blow as best he could and laying his brother down gingerly. _

_"What have you done to him?" He roared at the angel. _

_"He is but asleep, Winchester." Myantion explained, bored with Dean already. Humans, he thought, were so narrow minded they never did ask they important questions. _

_Dean's face contorted into a powerful rage. "Where are Elle and Cas?" He demanded. _

_"Elle?" Myantion smirked. "Is that what she's calling herself now? Can't say I approve." He remarked as though it were of any consequence to him. "In any matter she and Castiel are safe in Heaven where she shall stay for the good of us all." _

_Dean's confusion cut sharply through his fury with terrifying force. "The hell are you talking about?" _

_"She didn't tell you?" Myantion leered mockingly, he knew he was getting to Dean, beginning to twist his perception. Human ideas and beliefs had always been so easily manipulated, he reflected. "Then again, I gather she has a history of that," He alluded to her neglecting to tell Dean she had already tried to kill Myantion. "The girl is part of a plot, I am actually trying to halt her plans, and she does need to be stopped." _

_"Why?" Dean asked ponderously, it almost sounded to him as though Elle was the bad guy in this, or at least she was a key player in a dangerous game at the very least. _

_He almost had Dean just where he needed him. "She and her master are trying to raise an army, one of demons. They plan to overthrow Heaven. Of course I cannot allow it." _

_Master? Well that did not sound pleasant in the slightest. And that plan was none too comforting either. He could not imagine Elle being involved in anything so sinister. "What? Who could she possibly be working on that with?" _

_"The one who set her free from Hell?" Myantion stated vaguely, relishing in Dean's piqued curiosity. The mortal was teetering right on the edge of believing him, casting dark shadows of doubt upon the guardian, and it was deliciously sweet. _

_Dean repeated himself, starving for the knowledge. "Who?" _

_Myantion sneered, "Crowley." He used so much disgust upon the name that it hid any trace of lie in his story. _

_"I don't-" Dean shook his head in bewilderment. _

_"Why do you think she tried to kill me?" The angel tested tauntingly, implying that he had never been anything other than a fine, up-standing angel citizen. "To save others?" He laughed mirthlessly, a harsh and vastly unpleasant sound. "She did it to keep her rebellion going, only it didn't go too well did it?"_

_The Winchester brother pushed his hands up in denial. He was wrong, Myantion had to be wrong. "She wanted to go to Hell so she could-"_

_"She could do what? Save you? Pay for her sins?" Again the angel chuckled without humour. "No. she did it so her rebellion would stay strong. She went to Hell to gather troops. And she found the biggest one of all: the King." He told the mortal ominously, he could see Dean finally accepting his tale. "Fair play to her, she is good. Had you all believing her, I'll bet." _

_Dean said nothing. He felt like an idiot. Why did he even believe her in the first place? Because she was in Hell with him? She should not have been able to get out. Because she remembered things about him? It had been her job to do so. Because she was pretty? He felt like that was the most persuasive factor in this. Dean had always been a sucker for a pretty girl and that thought almost made him feel sick. _

_"But she's safe now. We all are. As long as she does not come back to finish her mission, she will be fine. We all will be." Myantion assured him. _

_Dean sincerely hoped she did not come back, at least not until this whole thing was over. Crowley was in big trouble this time, Dean thought. Something nagged at the back of his mind and he reached up to scratch an itch at his throat. "You took Cas' Grace and put it inside me." He remembered. _

_Myantion nodded unashamedly. "You need it more." _

_"Why?" Dean was more puzzled by this answer than any other he had received so far. _

_The angel grinned in satisfaction, he had no doubt in his mind that the mortal would do whatever he asked. "I need you to do something for me."_

_Dean cocked his head to the side. "What?" _

_"I've been making Nephilim for one reason only: to capture Crowley." Myantion's reasoning was sound, it was a lie, but it could easily have been otherwise. "Nephilim are stronger than angels, stronger than demons. Crowley will not come easily. I need you to summon him and hand him over to me." _

_"Why?" Anyone could summon Crowley, he supposed the demon would not turn up if an angel called upon him though. _

_"You ask more questions than I thought such a good little soldier would," Myantion tittered in false disapproval, he kept his tone light and teasing. "So I can stop the chaos of Heaven, of course."_

_Dean considered his options. "If I do this, Elle will be okay?" As much as he believed Myantion, he still did not think her entirely guilty. She was still extremely young for an angel, he reminded himself. "And Sam and Cas too?" He added on an afterthought. _

_"Of course," Myantion pledged, knowing it would never come down to that. "I will even have her name cleared and she will be able to return to you." He vowed honestly. "That is, if she doesn't fight it. If she returns she will try to convince you to give up the Grace. You must not do it. She does not want you to be as strong as her. It will make it harder for her to take you down." He knew she would fight it, he wanted her to. But most of all, he wanted Dean to rid the world of her for good. Then he could begin his real plans. _

_The angel turned on his heel and began to saunter toward the exit. "Oh," Myantion called back to Dean. "You may experience a few changes in your personality, just go with it." He disappeared without further explanation. _

Without further ado, Dean scoured the page once again and began chanting the Latin incantation with fluency and precision, careful to project each word fully. He needed something to go his way. Having finished, he lit the black candle with a practiced hand.

"Crowley," he greeted without looking up. He knew the demon would be where he had anticipated. He never did avoid Dean's calls.

"Oh, Deany boy!" Crowley crooned in mock surprise. "So nice of you to call," It did not sound as though he really though it nice at all; in fact, quite the opposite. "And Samantha, I see you've finally accepted your feminine side… and shrunk rather a lot." He was not too put off by the tired scowls he received from both Elle and Dean. "Of course I jest. Who is your lady friend, Dean?"

Dean grunted impatiently. "I think you know." He growled.

"I am being entirely honest with you when I say I wish I did." He gave Elle an appreciative up and down look as though she were some sort of art work on display for his pleasure. She did not know whether to be flattered or offended.

"My name is Elle," She informed him, halting his appraisal and earning a questioning brow. "I think you know me as Tauriel." She clarified.

"Oh," He elongated in understanding, "So you're the little mite causing me all this trouble?" He said it lightly, but there was a dangerous undertone to his words.

"Trouble?" She asked genuinely perplexed, her eyebrows knitting close together. Dean mused that she kind of looked like a puppy when she did that, but he pushed it from his mind, he was supposed to be deciding whether or not he believed her.

Crowley scoffed. "Look, love, I appreciate you trying to put out a good story about me, but now they expect me to follow through with it."

She tilted her head slightly, still thoroughly bewildered, "I don't understand."

"Your story is making me look bad and not in the good way. " He grinned at his own pun, then frowned at the seriousness of this situation. "I have my own demons on my arse moaning about why I have yet to divulge a plan to overthrow Heaven. A plan I haven't made." He grew more and more furious with each passing minute. "So you see, sweetheart, I'm a teensy weensy bit annoyed at having to deal with your mess."

Elle sighed heavily. "Hate to break it to you, but it's not my story." She told him, maybe he would believe her more easily than Dean had. "It's an angel; Myantion."

"The angel who used to sell Grace to demons? No idea he was still in business." Crowley had gone from blind rage to insane curiosity in less than a second. He scratched at his stubble-laden chin. "I had heard that a particular someone," He looked pointedly at Elle. "Was supposed to have done away with him."

"He tampered with my blade." She said defensively, putting another step backward between herself and the demon, despite his being in a Devil's trap.

He cocked his head. "Knew you were on to him, eh?" He sniggered heartily. "Well that rebellion was a bit noisy, first time I bet. It was a pity it didn't last longer – it was very promising."

"I seem to do nothing but disappoint," She mumbled more to herself than anyone else. "He was killing my best men, I had to do something." She seemed tinier than usual. Dean could not imagine her fronting a rebellion, nor could he picture her taking a life; yet he knew she could, she was stronger than she seemed, but a part of him wondered why she would do these things. Her answer had always been to protect him; he had wondered if that was a rouse to earn his trust and then betray him, but now he doubted that that had ever been the case.

Crowley seemed to genuinely pity her. "He was on his own mission, my dear, killing your men was just to throw people off the scent. Surely you realise that?"

She had not, but they did not have time for him to explain. "Look, Crawley."

"It's Crowley." He corrected irritably.

"Don't care." She dismissed, waving a hand airily as though such information were too trivial to note. Dean smirked, he knew Crowley would be internally furious at this mark of disrespect. She continued as though she had not noticed that. "This bag of dicks is making us both look bad. Don't you want to gank the bastard?"

Crowley took so long to reply that Elle almost thought he was devising some sort of method to shut her up for good. "I like her," He announced finally, a broad grin settling about his lips. "She's much more fun than that winged baby you were seeing last time we met." He teased.

Dean blanched at such an implication. "I was nev-"

"Dean, it doesn't matter." Elle cut off, trying to supress a smirk. "What does Myantion want with you?" She directed to Crowley.

He shrugged simply. "Haven't the foggiest," He replied, "Perhaps he just needs someone to point the blame to. How the hell should I know?"

Elle groaned, "Dean's supposed to summon him once you've been secured and you don't have any inkling as to why?"

"Not the slightest clue, my dear." Crowley actually seemed genuinely pained that he could not give her more information.

"So what do we do?" Dean interrogated.

Elle shook her head, "First, I need to know right now whether or not you believe me." She dropped her stare, frightened by the indecision she feared she would find in those green eyes, her arms fell limply to her sides. "If you don't then I'm just wasting my time being here."

Dean did not answer, he alternated between examining Elle and then Crowley and then back again.

Crowley snapped his fingers in an effort to gain Dean's attention. "Don't be a dunderhead, Squirrel. You're worse than the Moose." He scorned.

"You really don't know her?" Dean questioned in a tone of finality.

The demon looked almost insulted. "Of course not. If I had found out where she was I would have killed her for making me look bad. Now I've got to find some other poor bastard." He was enraged that he now had to search for someone entirely different.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, something he did when he was feeling guilty. "So what do you want me to do, Elle?"

"You believe me?" She asked sceptically, she did not dare hope that he did.

Dean smiled weakly, "Yeah, I do."

Elle nodded to herself and set her jaw tightly. It was time. "Summon that bitch." She growled viciously as she rubbed out a chink of the Devil's trap, much to Crowley's pleasure. "You can go, or you can help us. Your choice."

Crowley leered. "I wouldn't miss this party for the world."


End file.
